Harry Potter and the Slytherin Rogue
by Iorhael-nin
Summary: Draco fans will like this I think... delves also into other characters, not just Harry. And an OC! Woot! Non-slash! Harry finds that though his godfather was lost, he is not gone...and that the only living memory of Sirius is in the hands of a rival.
1. Uno

Year Six of Harry Potter

Alas, year six has passed. But, if you're saddened by that end, let's just read mine for the hell of it. After all, this is a free country.

Anyway, as in all my other stories, this one's very involved. Read on, Harry Potter fans, read on!

Oh and there's an OC in this, so bear with me. I have a habit of making new characters in every story. But NEVER Mary Sues.

Disclaimer: Why do people even have these? This site's called for god's sakes! Of course we don't own the characters- it's _FAN_fiction! Ah whatever.

(The name Tamora is from my favorite Shakespearian play- _Titus Andronicus_. A very very good but extremely gory and depressing play. I couldn't help but use the name; after all, Lucius is a name from _Titus_. I have a very interesting vision... Maybe some fanart :grins evilly: Ah, fanart.)

(Oh, and many thanks to the name 'Ravenwolf' which I use in this, since I have taken this name from the Wicca author Silver Ravenwolf and used it for a new character. THANK YOU, MS. RAVENWOLF! BECAUSE OF YOU, I NO LONGER HAVE WRITER'S BLOCK!)

_Back to the Ordinary_

Harry sat at the edge of his bed, listening to the snowy white owl rattling in her cage. He payed no attention to her pleas. Sirius was gone... His only chance of escaping the Dursleys was gone with him. It was a dark night, the night Sirius had died, starless and rigid as the look in his eyes as he had fallen behind the curtain. Harry would never forget it.

Still, things were much better than they had been. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia weren't afraid of Harry nearly as much as they were of Lupin, Moody, and the Weasleys, ever since the day they had all met at King's Cross station. Umbridge was gone for good, and Hagrid was to teach the Care of Magical Creatures class once again. It seemed so very far away now, Dumbledore's Army, the mistletoe, the time spent with Cho at Hogsmeade, the swirling fireworks Fred and George had set off, the chaos they had wreaked, the sound of Umbridge's screams as the she road away atop the centaurs, the Quidditch Cup...but he smiled and let out a sigh. Sirius was not lost in vain... he would have been proud of them, all of them...

Only a few weeks after the summer had began, he had gotten four letters, three from Hermione, and one from Mrs. Weasley. Harry was to spend all of July in the Burrow, and Hermione would meet them at the Leaky Cauldron before they bought their supplies for their sixth year at Hogwarts.

But a cold wind blew that summer night, unusually cold, sending chills up Harry's spine. He could feel his scar burning, but now it was a dull pain. He realized that Voldemort was now as he used to be– both great and terrible, and even more compelled to destroy Harry than before.

He closed the window quickly, opening his album to the picture of Sirius and his parents he had been given. Harry missed both Sirius and his parents terribly, but never-the-less finished his pointless Divination assignment. As always, it was predicted for him to die a horrible death, either by falling into a manhole or having a large bird scoop him up as prey, Professor Trelawney had returned to Hogwarts, and this time, she was absolutely positive that he would die... or at least that's what she had told him before he left.

What would he write this time? Ah, now he remembered. Harry began to fill the last few lines of his parchment.

_And the tea leaves, when interpreted, show the large black dog reappearing; but now, it will come and attack me. I will die within a month of return to school._

That would satisfy Trelawney. His assignments were finished particularly early this year, in hopes of leaving the Dursleys' as soon as possible. This would be his first birthday spent with his friends- his real family, and he could hardly wait to see them again.

The window blew open and the ominous wind swept through again. Uncle Vernon let out a loud snore from the bedroom just down the hall. Harry forcefully closed the windows, locking them from the inside. He crawled into bed, pulling the covers tightly about him.'Not much longer here,' he thought calmly, 'soon I'll be back at Hogwarts...'

He woke up in the morning to one of Dudley's tantrums in the kitchen, which unfortunately was just below Harry's bedroom. And then an argument between Uncle Vernon and a voice he nearly mistook for Mrs. Weasley. And that's just who it was.

"Harry can't spend his summer here- he needs to get his supplies for Hogwarts–"

"We do not use that word in this house!" bellowed Vernon at Mrs. Weasley, "You will leave at once or I will call the authorities!"

Harry packed his trunks as fast as he could while they bickered, taking Hedwig and running downstairs into the kitchen.

"I'm leaving now, Uncle Vernon."

"Hello, Harry dear!" Mrs. Weasley beamed, "Ready to go?"

Vernon was speechless, his face turning its distinctive purple.

"Let's go now," said Harry, leading her to the fireplace.

Harry took a fistful of floo powder from Mrs. Weasley and shouted, "The Burrow!"

Mrs. Weasley apparated before Vernon could protest.

While the green embers surrounded Harry, he felt a hand reach out and grab his ankle, "Get out of my fireplace!"

Vernon burned his hand and yelled in pain, Harry falling through to the Weasley's fireplace.

"Welcome back, Harry!" said a familiar voice.

"Hermione!"

"Hello Harry. I'm here for the summer while my mum and dad go on vacation together."

Mrs. Weasley set breakfast in front of them at the table, waiting for Fred, George, and Ginny to arrive. They had a small conversation about the year ahead, Harry staring off into space for long periods of time.

"Harry- are you alright?" Mrs. Weasley asked concernedly.

"Yes, I'm fine."

Harry had thought about Sirius almost constantly since he had returned to the Dursleys', and now was no different. He barely noticed Fred and George walk in and tease him about being too young to apparate and having to use floo powder. Ginny entered the kitchen. She would be a fifth year, and she appeared so much older now. How last year had aged them...

His mind often wandered into thoughts of Cho over the first month spent at the Burrow. He missed her, though he hated the way she overreacted at the Hog's Head. She was so incredible, it was hard to ignore her beauty.

Harry's birthday had long since passed. It was late August, the 30th to be exact. Dumbledore had sent them their letters weeks ago. Ginny, Hermione, Ron, and Harry sat in the living room, reviewing their lists.

"Standard Book of Spells, Grade Six..." Ron said, sitting in the large armchair. He drawled on. Harry wasn't listening, and apparently, neither was Hermione. "New cauldrons too, mum," said Ron before he read the next book on the list.

For the second time that summer, Harry made to pack his luggage. "We'll be going to Diagon Alley in a few minutes, dears," said Mrs. Weasley prudently.

They traveled by floo powder to the fireplace in the Leaky Cauldron, Hagrid greeting each as they appeared.

"Well would ye look a' tha'. All grown up, now, aren't ya? Ron, Hermione, and Harry, and... Why Ginny- yer looking jus' like a young lady now."

"Thanks, Hagrid."

Harry glanced at Ginny, causing her to blush a deep red and stay silent until they'd left the Leaky Cauldron. She walked into Flourish and Blott's alone when they passed it, not bothering to tell Mrs. Weasley.

"Don't mind Ginny, she still has a crush on you even though she's got a..._boyfriend_. She won't tell us who it is, though. Hate it when she does this, don't you?"

"Mmhm..." muttered Harry, obviously not catching a word Ron had said. The joy of returning to Hogwarts, though it had become lessened from Voldemort's return, was still an improvement from the Dursleys'.

They decided to each buy their things separately, then meet at Flourish and Blott's for their books. Harry's first stop was at Gambol and Japes to buy the secretly mass-produced Ton-Tongue taffies. If he was to enjoy his sixth year, it would be better to choke the greedy Slytherins, including Malfoy. Five sickels a pack was more than enough to charge, but Harry knew that Fred and George would ask seven from ordinary customers.

"We can't charge _our hero_ seven sickels," joked Fred.

"Especially one who got rid of Umbridge," said George.

"Besides, Mum can't find out about these, so we have to find a way to keep you quiet."

Harry smiled warmly, "Thanks. I'll take two packs of taffies, then."

George handed Harry two packs and Fred took the money. "When you get back to Hogwarts, send 'em all our regards."

"I will."

He exited Gambol and Japes, going straight to Mullpepper's for his new list of ingredients from Professor Snape.

"Hello, Mr. Potter. Sixth year? I know just what you sixth years have on your lists since so many of you have been 'ere since morning. Just a minute."

Mr. Mullpepper brought Harry his ingredients, looking over them, "New potion vial?"

"Yes."

He inspected them again, "One galleon."

Harry paid Mr. Mullpepper and left the apothecary. After they all had been to get their school supplies (except books), they met at Flourish and Blott's as planned. As Harry reached for the door go in, something flashed behind him. He spun around, but found nothing unusual. His scar seared painfully, and he moved into the shop hesitantly, looking behind him one last time.

Mrs. Weasley spoke to them. "You've all got to buy your books and be out of here as fast as possible. We've got quite a bit of packing to do when we get back home. Alright? Alright. Get going!"

Luckily enough, the books needed were in the first few bookcases in the front of the store. "Advanced Care of Magical Creatures- Poisonous Insects, Dragons and... Dragons!" yelped Hermione. "Hagrid can't be teaching us to care for...dragons...can he?"

Ron and Harry both shrugged. Hermione groaned, taking the book off the shelf. "Why do I have a feeling this year is going to be even more dangerous than the last five?"

"Because Vol– He-who-must-not-be-named, is back," Harry corrected himself.

Ron shuddered. "I think his name's losing meaning, don't you?"

"I think so," laughed Harry.

Ron tried, "V–...Voldem–...Sorry. Voldemort!" It was said in a whisper, as if he was afraid that a dementor lurked around the corner.

Had there been anyone around, the name of Voldemort may have caused a riot even at a whisper; but today the shop was uncommonly bereft of customers.

"Let's go- come on!" Mrs. Weasley said, approaching the front desk. "How much will all this cost, then?"

"Ten galleons and four sickels," replied the cashier.

"T-Ten galleons?" stumbled Mrs. Weasley, "Well, alright... Just a minute."

Harry watched her fumble with knuts and sickels.

"I can take care of it, Mrs. Weasley."

"Nonsense, Harry. I have it." She hid her embarrassment by inspecting her purse, pulling out a handful of galleons. "Still have quite a bit of our prize money left- not to worry."

Harry gaped at the large sum of money. They really did deserve that money, and now Ron could buy a robe that didn't have lace or tears in the seam.

"Off to get your robes now, Ron- dress robes especially. Don't dawdle, Ginny- lots to do still." They came across the shop; inside was Malfoy being fitted for new dress robes.

"Mum- just one curse- please?" Ron asked.

"No no- You're not allowed magic until start of term. Just keep to the opposite side of the room." The walked into Madam Malkin's.

"Hello Mr. Weasley- Molly! And Harry- back so soon?" said Madam Malkin.

Draco turned on the wooden stool with a scowl.

"Wait here- stand on these," she motioned to two stools for Ginny and Ron, Ron being alongside Draco.

"Well Weasley- I see only half your family's here. Have to sell them to pay for your robes? No, of course not. Your entire family wouldn't even be worth a sickel."

Ron lunged at him, but Harry held him back. "No, Ron- you'll fall off."

"Oh, right." Ron got off the stool and punched Malfoy in the stomach. He groaned painfully and stumbled off the stool, stepping on the ends of his robe (which evidently were to be hemmed), tripping and falling down.

Harry and Ron laughed at him, turning away too soon to see Draco rise and leap at Ron, tackling him to the ground. He pulled his wand from his pocket. "_Cruc_–"

Madam Malkin squealed in terror, "NO MR. MALFOY!" taking his wand from him, "Not in my shop, you won't! You can stay, Ginny. Out- all three of you. You heard me! Your mother will have to come in and get your wand back from me personally for that behavior, Mr. Malfoy."

"You'll be next, Potter," said Malfoy in a huff, walking out of the store to Narcissa across the path.

"Everyone thinks I'm going to die a sudden painful death," grumbled Harry, following Ron out.

"Well that was uncalled for- I'm very disappointed in you, Ron!" shunned Mrs. Weasley.

Ron couldn't believe what he was hearing, "Mum! You saw him in there- he tried to kill me!"

"Because you started a fight with him!"

"He's been talking about us like that for years–"

"–And he always will! Now I don't want to hear any more about him! He's dreadful, I know- but that doesn't give you a reason to start a fight with him! I won't hear any more of this rubbish about defending your family like last time. Now you go in there and apologize to Madam Malkin so you can get your robes and move on!"

Ron obeyed her wishes, but refused to speak to his mother for the remainder of the day, and only spoke to Harry when they were upstairs packing that night.

"Bloody parents, don't know what it's like to have to get insults from him every day."

Harry said, "Well your father hears it every day, you know."

"And look what _he's _done about it- started that big fight in the middle of Flourish and Blott's, didn't he?"

"There really is nothing you can do about him--"

Ron sighed.

"–Until we're back in school."

He laughed, getting out his new robes, "I have to admit, these are better than the other ones. Remember them?"

"I'm trying not to."

"Yeah...me too. So, let's see what we have here. _You've got new robes, too?_" Ron looked at his own dejectedly, which were obviously not as well-made.

Harry answered sheepishly, "I needed them. They were getting so short I could have given them to Hermione as a dress."

He faked a smile, "That's true." Changing the subject, he motioned to a pile of newspapers, "I forgot to tell you- I've bought a subscription to the Daily Prophet, and during the year it's to be delivered to the common room."

Picking up the newest Daily Prophet from the stack Ron had by his bed, Harry exclaimed, "Look! It's Dumbledore- he's being commemorated for his duties to the Department of Mysteries for the capture of Bellatrix Lastrange...Why are they mentioning _me_?"

"Because she tried to kill you."

"No no... As a hero. I didn't do anything to help capture her."

"...Dunno. Probably Fudge's idea."

Harry read the last few lines, "..._And it seems Harry Potter has survived He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named once again._ I hate when they do that."

Ron yawned loudly, "I'm off to bed. See you in the morning."

"Goodnight, Ron."

Harry had a restless night, his thoughts of Sirius and Voldemort prying his eyes open every few hours. It was impossible to sleep when his godfather's death replayed in his mind, his lifeless body falling back behind the veil limply. It played over and over until it woke him up, scar burning. Finally, in the wee hours of morning, he dozed off and didn't awaken until well after seven.

"Time to wake up! Everyone! We only have one hour to get everyone ready!" Mrs. Weasley paced in the hallway. "Everybody up!"

Harry rubbed the sleep from his eyes and joined the train of red-haired people walking down the staircase to the breakfast table.

"Very good, very good. We all have to get a proper breakfast then dress and get our suitcases into the trunk of the car. Alright?"

"Yes," they all answered sleepily.

"Car?" asked Harry. The other five, including Hermione, stared at Mrs. Weasley.

She explained, "Yes, Arthur got a new car from the Ministry. It's not enchanted to fly like the last one, but we'll still make good time. And _no one_, that means you two," she glared at the twins, "is allowed to drive but me or your father."

"Oh mum, just a few laps around the muggle towns," joked Fred.

George chimed in, "All we want is to scare the life out of a few of them, maybe throw a few dung bombs or..."

"Which is exactly why I'm not letting you!" snapped Mrs. Weasley, "Probably end up in a Muggle prison, knowing your history. Eat up, and no more about that car, do you understand?"

"Yes."

Both of you?

"Yes mum," they said simultaneously.

"All right, you," she said to Ron, "Get ready to leave. All of you- hop to it! Ginny- get packed?"

"Last night, mum. My luggage is out by the car."

"Excellent. Ron? Your luggage?"

Ron proceeded to walk up the stairs to dress without answering. Harry followed him and tried to talk him out of his silence. "You can't stay mad at your mum."

"Oh really?"

"Well you can," Harry reasoned, "But honestly, Ron, she knows how much you hate Malfoy."

"No she doesn't," said Ron stubbornly, "She doesn't know about anything that we do at Hogwarts. Not what it's _really_ like, anyway."

"Of course she doesn't! But... argh nevermind, Ron, let's go."

"All of you packed? Good, good!" said Mrs. Weasley exuberantly, helping Mr. Weasley with his tie. "Now Arthur... we don't have to look like Muggles on a business trip, lord knows we've looked less like them and attracted less attention to ourselves." She removed his tie. Ron and Harry were just at the bottom of the stairs when Mrs. Weasley gathered all her children and Hermione around her, smiling broadly, "Now, I know you're all excited to be going back to school, but I just wanted to give you all a very helpful hint: Do NOT take the place of Fred and George. The ministry is already having a laugh; word's gotten 'round that they let fireworks loose in the school! I will send a howler to every one of you if anyone steps out of line this year. I regret I'll have to include you too, Harry. Hermione, I don't expect anything rash out of you."

Harry and Ron exchanged glances, the exact same thing running through their minds: Hermione had nearly broken as many rules as Ron and Harry last year. Rash decisions were her specialty since she had formed S. P. E. W.

Hermione nodded, "No rash decisions." She glanced over at Harry and Ron's expressions and shrugged as Mrs. Weasley moved on.

"Erm... Molly?" said Mr. Weasley, pointing out the window.

"What?" The car was beginning to move on its own, gulping luggage into its trunk. Mrs. Weasley ran to the car and placed all the luggage she could carry by the trunk. It proceeded to gulp down all of the luggage, while Ron, Hermione, and Harry fed the car their luggage. Once all the luggage was in the trunk, they piled into the car.

"Mum?" asked Ginny.

"Yes dear?"

"...Will we be getting our luggage back?"

"I hope so... Arthur- I thought you said this car wasn't enchanted." Mrs. Weasley folded her arms.

Mr. Weasley seemed a bit hesitant, "Well understand, dear- there weren't many cars left. So, I settled for a car that was... _less_-enchanted, if you will."

"_Arthur!_"

"It'll give us the luggage back!"

Mrs. Weasley was silent (save some muttering and a few disgruntled 'hmphs' now and then) for the rest of the ride to King's Cross Station.

Once they had parked, the car spit out their luggage with a large belching sound. "Th-Thank you!" said Arthur hesitantly, dodging Hedwig's cage as it whizzed past his head.

"_Accio Hegwig!_" Harry uttered, Hedwig's cage flying towards him.

Mrs. Weasley made a check of all their luggage and urged them on toward Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. "I'm so proud of you, Ginny- going on to your fifth year, and a prefect!"

"What?" the three said simultaneously, as Ron, Harry, and Hermione turned around. Ron spoke, "You didn't tell us you were a prefect, Ginny."

"I didn't want to be a prefect, but McGonagall insisted!" said Ginny sadly. "Anyway, I told Mum not to tell you. Prefects are such gits–"

Hermione cleared her throat loudly.

"–No offence. But I'm not supposed to be a prefect!"

"Nonsense Ginny," said Mrs. Weasley with a pat on the back, "You'll do fine. Off you go- the Hogwarts Express leaves in five minutes!"

Harry, Hermione, Ron and Ginny ran single file at the barrier, followed by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.

"Mum," said Ginny, "We'll be all right. You don't have to follow us anymore."

Mrs. Weasley was almost brought to tears. "...But it's fine if you want to follow us..." Ginny continued.

"It's not that," she sobbed, "You're just all young gentlemen and ladies now!" She hugged each of them, sniffling, "Be good, all of you."

"And if that doesn't work, you can always market some trick candy from Gambol and Jape's!" called Fred. George yelled back, "And make sure to send all our _love_ to Snape! Get the old git this year! Do it for us, Harry. For us!"

The Hogwarts Express cleared the station as soon as they were aboard. Mr. Weasley waved from the platform while Mrs. Weasley yelled at the twins furiously, the noise cut off by the train whistle. "I'm glad Mum and Dad won't be here next time, Ginny," said Ron, groaning as he looked for a free compartment. He came across a girl he hadn't seen before sitting in a compartment by herself.

"Is this seat taken?" Ron asked. As she was about to shake her head, Malfoy shoved Ron out of the way and sat next to her in the compartment.

"Sorry, Weasley. Haven't you got any other girls out of your league to chase?"

"What's your name?" asked Tamora, motioning to Ron not to leave.

Draco held out his hand. "Draco Malfoy. Pleasure to meet you. This maggot here is Ron Weasley."

She didn't shake his hand. "I'm Tamora. And you've overstayed your welcome. Goodbye, Mr. Malfoy. Ron?" Ron's jaw dropped as he watched Malfoy leave the compartment in a huff. "...D'you realize you're the only person to successfully reject Malfoy?"

"It was bound to happen eventually. Ron Weasley... I've heard about you before. Your father works at the Ministry; good man. Wait- you were keeper for Gryffindor last year!" The amazement on his face changed to embarrassment.

"Not this year. Do you play Quidditch?"

Tamora crossed her legs, "Actually, I was hoping to try out for keeper."

"But you don't know which team you're on yet!" Ron said, eyebrows raised.

"Oh that's no trouble. I can be keeper no matter what house I'm in. Chocolate Frog?" She held out a bag of candy.

"N-no, I'm fine." Ron also held out a bag of candy, "Oh! I have to go get Harry and Hermione!"

"Harry?" she said, suddenly interested.

"Yeah," he answered, his mouth full of chocolate frogs. "...'arry ot-ern..."

She laughed, "Harry Potter I hope." He noddded. "Well then, I'd like to meet him." Ron smiled, swallowing the candy in one gulp and turning red, "Sorry." He looked very pathetic with his face tinged scarlet and an embarrassed air. "Well Ron, we should get your friends, shouldn't we?"

"Nnno... They'll find us. Tell me about your Quidditch experience." He relaxed, putting his hands behind his head. "Well," she started, "I've been practicing since I was six or seven, and I loved playing a game or two of Quidditch with my father."

"Your father? Do I know him?" Ron leaned forward.

Tamora answered him, "I should think so... but... you promise not to tell anyone if I tell you?" Ron nodded. "Of course. Go on, who is he then?" "Well, he's–"

"Ron!" Hermione said, standing in the doorway of the compartment, "We've been looking all over for you. We're getting close to Hogwarts. Get your robes on!"

"I know, Hermione, I know!" groaned Ron. "Well, Tamora. I'll see you at the Sorting?"

"At the Sorting." She waved as Hermione took his arm and lead him to their compartment down the row. "Her name's Tamora. Must be new this year," said Ron, trying to keep up with Hermione and his arm.

"Yes, yes, that's nice, Ron." She completely disregarded what he said and brought him to Harry. "He's been talking with a girl."

"Oh?" Harry said mischievously, "Who?"

"Tamora... Tamora something. She never did tell me her last name." Ron shrugged.

Harry sat up straight, "So, what did she look like?"

"Oh you two! Honestly!" Hermione huffed, "We've got more important things to do!"

Ron sat down next to Harry, "Well, she had long black hair, and really brown eyes, and... come to think of it, she looked kind of familiar..."

"Pretty?"

"'Pretty' doesn't begin to describe her..." he answered, "_And_ she plays Quidditch... How lucky can you get?"

"We are going to be at the castle in fifteen minutes!" said Hermione hotly, "Now if you'll both listen for just one second–"

"Which position is she trying out for?"

"Keeper. Wicked, eh?"

"RON! HARRY! Hogwarts... fifteen minutes... GET... ROBES!"

"Alright, Hermione- why didn't you say so in the first place?" said Ron, continuing to talk to Harry.

"_Immobulus!_" yelled Hermione. Ron froze, his mouth open as he was about to say something else, Hermione's spell impeding his conversation.

Harry uttered a counter-curse, "Come on, Ron. Get your robes."

After about ten minutes of quarreling between Ron and Hermione about the use of spells, the Hogwarts Express slowed to a stop.

"Got your robes, Hermione?" Ron teased. Hermione gripped her wand tightly, hitting Ron with her book on purpose as she turned around. As soon as they were off the train, Harry called to the unnaturally noticeable... face... in the crowd.


	2. Due

_Chapter Two_

"How are ye, Harry? Ready fer another year a' Hogwarts?" Hagrid grunted.

Harry muttered a 'yes' and turned his attention to Cho, or at least the back of her head. She was talking with a friend, most likely a Quidditch teammate. He wanted to reach for her hand, apologize, and ask her if they were still dating; but she'd most likely laugh at him, or worse, say nothing at all and act as if she'd never heard him speak. He sighed and joined Ron and Hermione in the carriage.

"So, did you talk to her?"

"Who?" said Harry.

Ron stared at him, "Cho! Who'd you think I meant?"

"That girl you were talking to- Tamora."

"Oh... Hope you meet her..."

Hermione was incensed, "Ron! Do you have to talk about that girl EVERY second?"

He seemed at wit's end, and finally let her have it, "Hermione, if you can't do anything but complain about me, why are you so jealous?" She didn't answer, but asked Harry instead, "Who will be keeper this year if Ron's obviously not going to make a fool of himself again this year?" Ron glared at her.

"Why don't you try out, then? I'm sure you have a _book_ that will tell you how to play Quidditch."

They came upon the castle, the carriages pulling up near the archway before the doors. Hermione and Ron were still arguing, even through the entrance hall. Harry couldn't bear the whining and the shouting for more than a few minutes, then he walked away from them, even though they hadn't noticed. Hermione stopped in mid-sentence halfway to the dining hall, "Ron- the Sorting. I don't care what you think right now, we have to be in the dining hall for the Sorting."

They were seated close to the front of the Gryffindor table, Harry stuck in the middle of the two. Seamus sat next to Ron, "Hello Ron, Harry. Hermione- any idea who the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher is?"

"No, no one's ever heard of him before. But I did hear he's brilliant..."

Suddenly Harry felt a rush of air like he had back in his room at the Dursleys' in June; it forced an intense shiver to run through his body like a violent tremor.

"Harry, are you alright?" asked Hermione. Harry answered 'yes' and ignored the increasing pain of his scar. The hall was silent.

"Welcome back, all." Dumbledore's voice echoed. "Another year, and I am proud to say I will be your headmaster this year." All the students cheered except a small crowd of Slytherins. Dumbledore held up a hand and they were silent again. "I would like to also congratulate the Gryffindor house for their consistent control over the House Cup." At this, all the Gryffindors cheered. "Now," he paused a moment for the cheers to die down, "It is an honor to announce that we have a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Welcome, Professor Ravenwolf. She has come from her latest werewolf hunt on the outskirts of Romania, and has told me she is thrilled to become a professor at Hogwarts. She isn't here at the moment, but she will teach classes tomorrow. Now, I believe Professor McGonagall would like to begin with the Sorting. Professor?" There was scattered applause, the McGonagall spoke.

"Thank you. I will begin with..." This was the point at which Ron and Hermione began to argue again, softer in their complaints so that McGonagall wouldn't hear. Harry's eyes fixed on a point on the wall and he was lost in thought. He'd been the cause of so many deaths. First his parents, dying to save his life. Then Cedric... if only Harry had been there with him... And now Sirius. Even Ginny was almost killed simply because Voldemort wanted to find him. Almost every person he'd met before had had their life threatened because of him. If only he could save them. But now Voldemort was at his worst. He couldn't be stopped now...

Harry's thoughts circled in his mind for minutes, near an hour he thought of this, then he thought of Cho. He didn't know if he loved her, or if it was an infatuation. Maybe she didn't love him anymore, and he was wasting his time. The same burning of his scar from before brought him into harsh contrast with reality. The Sorting was nearly over, less than a handful of names remained.

McGonagall seemed intrigued, and a long pause came before the next name was announced. "Black, Tamora."

An older girl approached the stool, McGonagall placing the sorting hat on her head.

Harry caught himself before he could cry out in surprise. Black? Sirius. Her sleek dark hair, mysterious eyes and slender face reminded him painfully of his lost godfather. It took a while before the Sorting Hat spoke.

"Hm...Most peculiar...Haven't been any students from the Black family in two decades...Let alone a sixth-year..."

Draco's eyes were locked on her as the Sorting Hat pondered her placement. Harry noted this, intensely awaiting the decision of house.

"...Slytherin!" the Hat finally answered, with cheers from the Slytherin table.

By the look on Tamora's face, she wasn't quite sure whether she dreaded or enjoyed being in Slytherin when she sat at the table. Malfoy grinned smugly in Harry's direction, hoping to unnerve him. He had.

"That's the girl I was talking to! D'you think she's related to Sirius?" Ron asked him.

"I'm certain."

This would be his greatest triumph. He hid his excitement from his fellow Slytherins. His father had told him over the summer about Sirius Black being Harry's godfather, and it was a very powerful secret. This power could tear apart Harry, especially with his dead godfather's only daughter in Slytherin. The only thing that would be needed to befriend this girl was time, and he had all year to finally destroy (if not physically, then mentally) the _famous Harry Potter_.

But behind all the revenge and hatred there was truth. Lucius had hated James and Lily, and that deep-rooted jealousy had been imprinted on Draco. Lucius had brought up his son to know well the name of Voldemort, taught him to enjoy the darkness. It had been many years since Draco's father corrupted his mind, too bitter to be a memory, too vivid to be a nightmare. All this lingered in subconscious thoughts, even now as he followed her with his eyes until she reached the table.

Draco gazed at Tamora, "Welcome to Slytherin house. Are you really related to Black- the murderer?"

She didn't answer, but continued to lose herself in thought.

Malfoy spoke louder, "Are you related to Black- the murderer?"

"The murderer?"

"Sirius Black."

"...I am. But he isn't a murderer," she replied thoughtfully.

Draco gave up all hope of reaching her at the moment, and Tamora didn't seem to notice he had even stopped talking.

Hermione, Ron, and Harry were huddled at the table.

"_I_ think she's going to be a problem," Hermione said with an air of superiority.

Lavender butted in, "Come on, Hermione. You're just jealous because she's prettier than you and you know it."

"Who asked you, anyway?" she snapped at Lavender, "Jealous of a Slytherin. Ridiculous." Hermione continued her conversation, "The _real_ reason I think she'll be trouble is because I think Draco's got something planned. Did you see the way he was looking at her?"

"Maybe he's considering his options for the sixth year formal ball," Ron sniggered.

"Whatever his intentions may be," said Hermione, "I intend to let her alone 'till I've gotten my first homework assignments completed tomorrow evening. Many more important things on my mind than _Tamora_."

Harry hadn't been listening. He was focused on Cho. She, too, seemed a different person. She was even more beautiful this year, but Harry still wasn't sure whether she even liked him anymore.

"You'll get Cho back, don't worry," said Ron.

Harry nodded more to convince himself than to agree with Ron. "Yeah..."

The sorting ceremony had soon ended, and all the prefects (including Hermione) lead their house's first-years to the common rooms.

Hermione said the password and let them in. "Boys to the left, girls to the right- your luggage has been set out for you." The first-years nervously scuttled up the stairs to their four-poster beds. The three sat in the common room beside the fire.

"She did almost tell me her father's name, but she wanted me to keep it a secret... It's got to be Sirius..." Ron said.

"Who?" asked Hermione, "Oh no- we're not still talking about that girl. It's too late to be talking about this still..."

"She might be Sirius' daughter, Hermione- we have to find out more about her."

"Ron is right," said Harry, "She looks very much like Sirius. I'm positive she's his daughter. But why wouldn't he tell us about her?"

"Maybe he was going to tell you but then he..." Ron stopped short of mentioning Sirius' death.

Hermione said, "That's a possibility. But how are you so sure about her, Harry?"

"I don't know... I can just... tell. All I know is that we've got to talk to her- and Slytherins' got potions with us again this year."

next day- Potions

Snape walked quickly into the room, doors slamming behind him. He stopped at his desk and grinned wryly. "Welcome back, Mr. Potter. Would you like me to call in Madam Pomfrey case you have another nightmare while you fall asleep in class?" The Slytherins erupted with laughter, Draco leading them. Snape was especially harsh this year since Harry had seen his most deepest, most humiliating secret memories in the pensieve. There was no escape from the constant insult and severity that he would have to endure this year, and quite honestly, it was all the vengeance Snape could inflict now that James was dead.

"Madam Pomfrey won't be needed until Quidditch season begins for Slytherin," said a female voice from the back of the room. The Gryffindors laughed and jeered the perfect reply while Snape scanned the back of the classroom. His eyes focused.

He grinned, eyes flashing, "Miss Black, I believe?" Silence fell swiftly on the students and all heads turned. She nodded, looking directly into his eyes. Harry was taken aback. She didn't hesitate whatsoever to challenge him.

"Mr. Potter, you've been replaced as the most talked-about person in the school. (there was laughter at this as well) Tell me, Miss Black, do you know what atrocity your father was responsible of?"

"Charged of, not responsible, if you please," she answered, hinting anger.

His crooked grin was becoming less pleasant, but more amused. "Well, well, well. Anyone who can tell tales with such ease and still be so confident belongs here. Welcome to Slytherin, Miss Black."

Tamora glared at him, "Being asked questions about my father is welcome? I've been asked enough questions. I'm not answering them anymore."

"Very well," said Snape coldly, "But your father is infamous. Questions will be inevitable. Moving on, then." He paused, taking a moment to prepare his vials and parcels. "What did we learn last about the ingredient asphodel and its use in certain sleeping droughts?"

Immediately Tamora raised her hand, seconds after Hermione. "Miss Black?" Snape said, refusing answers from Hermione as usual.

Tamora answered, "Asphodel is used in some sleeping droughts to awaken instead of to add to the sedative because the other two ingredients counteract the third."

"Very good, Miss Black."

"I'm not finished," she said, causing several students to gasp. Snape would have given her detention had she not been a Slytherin. Instead, he waved his hand for her to continue. "These types of droughts very seldom have an antidote, therefore aren't commonly used." Everyone in the entire class was stunned, Slytherin and Gryffindor alike.

"...Finished?" Snape asked.

"Yes."

"Excellent. Second question for all those who can read..."

_(A/N: I update just like this. Either an existing chapter, or brand new. Be on the lookout! Oh, and apologies for writing "he" instead of "she" in Dumbledore's welcome speech for Professor Ravenwolf. Alas, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher is not a hot guy. Boo hoo. Oh well.)_

After class was dismissed, Tamora was approached by someone less than pleasant.

"Tamora!" called Malfoy. She turned around to face him. "Yes?" She glared, "Oh, it's only you. Why are you so persistent? Haven't you any friends to bother?"

Draco smiled, trying to put his arm on her shoulder unsuccessfully. "I've heard you're quite the Quidditch player."

"I've heard you're a very rude person. Do you mind not trying to put your arm around me for a moment? Thank you."

"All right- here's what I want."

"I _know_ what you want. Ask me the question about Quidditch," said Tamora sarcastically.

He laughed, his eyes narrow and cold, "Well then. I want to know if you'll be our new keeper. Our keeper graduated."

"Your keeper is a third-year. Don't take me for a fool, Draco." Tamora walked to the ladder leading to Trelawney's Divination class. She turned her head as she was about to ascend the ladder. "But concerning Quidditch, I'll be at practice early tomorrow morning."

Malfoy smiled admiringly, but began to give orders to Crabbe and Goyle when they passed to hide his absence of sharp cruelty.

"Welcome class," said a dreamy, distant voice. Trelawney's class was once again stifling, and judging by the billowing smoke, she hadn't opened the trap door leading to her classroom all morning. Tamora coughed and waved away the smoke in front of her face. "Professor Trelawney?"

The wide-eyed professor seemed to glide towards her through the smoke. "Miss Tamora Black. Your aura is emitting neutral vibrations. I await the shape your tea leaves will reveal. It gives me such... joy... to find the fate of a new student."

Tamora stared at her, completely puzzled, "...W-what?"

"Follow me, dear," Trelawney lead her to her seat, "you'll be revealing the unknown with your new partner, Miss Granger." Her eyes widened behind the thick spectacles again. She smiled, urging her to sit.

"...Thank you...?" she said awkwardly, sitting next to Hermione. "Hello. You're Miss Granger?"

"Hermione. And you're Tamora. Ron's told me about you," she said, trying her best to be friendly despite her aggravation from hearing about Tamora every minute of every day since they'd been on the train. "I didn't want to take Divination this year, but McGonagall said if I would be taking so many extra classes by choice I'd have to take all my required classes as well. Trelawney's a bit... how should I put this..."

"Insane?"

"Yes, that works nicely." Hermione smiled. "She's quite insane."

Tamora lifted a teacup, "...What do we do with the cups?"

"Oh, you'll see. We read tea leaves." She groaned, putting her head on the desk, "I hate this smoke... It's nauseating."

"Yes... it makes you very... sick." She had noticed Draco taking his seat at the table nearest them. Unfortunately, he spoke, "Tamora, why do you waste your time with them? First Weasley, now Granger. I thought you were more selective of your company."

"I am. That's why I've avoided _you_," said Tamora bluntly. Hermione laughed at the look of rejection on his face. Malfoy jeered, "Can't fight your own battles, Granger? If it's not Potter, at least you have a backup."

Hermione nearly put a curse on him, but Tamora made a deal with him, "Draco- I know for some bizarre reason you're interested in being a plague in my life, so if you leave us alone in this class for the rest of the year, I'll be your partner today."

"For the entire day?" he said in a coltish tone, "And does this include retiring to the boys' dormitories?" Crabbe and Goyle laughed stupidly from the table in front of Draco and one could make out the words "bed" and "Draco" amid the unintelligible speech.

"This offer will expire, Draco. Take it or leave it." Tamora folded her arms.

Draco nodded, "Fine. I'll play by your rules for today."

Hermione tried to tell her that it was alright and she didn't need to sit next to Malfoy just to stop her from killing him. As usual, Tamora had her own plans that would give her a dramatic advantage. She sat to the left of Draco, setting down her tea cup. Then, before he could speak, she lodged her wand between two of his ribs forcefully, "If you don't leave Hermione alone, I may have to resort to moving my wand lower to do some more permanent damage. It's all about choices, Draco." The shock was evident on his face. She whispered into his ear, "...Choose wisely." He sighed with relief when she placed her wand back in her pocket.

"Class, may I have your attention..." said the liquid voice of Professor Trelawney, "We will be reading tea leaves again this year in order to find our fates for this year. I see Mr. Potter has died over the summer? Once again, the tea leaves are correct..." Parvati and Lavender clapped enthusiastically.

"Actually, Professor- he's in your last class of the day." Hermione smiled, nodding in Tamora's direction. Parvati and Lavender gave Hermione a nasty look, then said Lavender said, "Well, Professor... Mightn't he die... this year?"

"Excellent thinking, Miss Brown- your senses of the unknown are very hightened." Trelawney approached Tamora. "I have passed out the tea leaves. Please begin, Miss Black." Tamora nodded and drank her tea, leaving only the leaves. Trelawney took her cup. "Interesting... they are forming a shape... Oh... my! The black dog returns! It appears from mist!" Trelawney was terrified, her hand drawn over her mouth.

Tamora froze, "...The black dog?... That's impossible."

"He appears! _He_ appears!"

"...What's going on?" Draco said warily.

"...I don't know."

Hermione couldn't believe what she'd heard, and she was glued to the edge of her seat, feeling unable to move.

Trelawney was hysterical, "The black dog... it's not of death... it's of life... He lives!... _He lives!._.." She repeated this to herself, fainting backwards onto the floor.

"Professor Trelawney!" cried Lavender and Parvati, rushing to her aid. She awakened, staring at Tamora, removing her glasses to reveal her orb-like eyes. She pointed at Tamora with a trembling hand. "...Miss Black. You are in grave danger. The black dog lives... the curtains have opened... someone is behind them... Something in this school..." Trelawney waved the smoke from her face, rising from the floor shakily, "...Class dismissed. _All_ classes dismissed."

For the first time in her history, Hermione sat next to Malfoy. "Tamora... _what was that_?"

"I wish I knew. No one understands- The black dog can't return..."

"Fang?" Draco said obliviously.

Hermione sighed, "Tamora, sit with Ron and Harry and me tonight at dinner. We have to talk."

On the way to Defense Against the Dark Arts, Hermione met Harry and Ron and told him what happened. "...Then she fainted! And she said Tamora was in danger."

"Trelawney thinks everyone's in danger. I think she's just finally gone over the edge of insanity," said Ron.

Harry waited for the stairs to change, "But if she isn't... we'd better be prepared for anything." They were seated at desks near the front of the class (which was a nice change from Trelawney's round tables), near a few less likeable Slytherins.

"You'll need some help fighting the Dark Arts this year, Potter- You might run into an enchanted toaster," laughed Millicent Bullstrode. The small group of Slytherins laughed at him.

"I'd be surprised if you could _spell _toaster, Millicent." Hermione was saved from Millicent's clenched fist by the door creaking open.

A witch with silvery mid-length hair walked into the room, her bright green eyes shining. She was very sickly pale, almost to match her hair. The stark color of her skin forced her slender nose into contrast whenever shadows lined her face. . Her black leather boots trod heavily on the floor, and her long cloak was onyx black. Any Muggle to walk through that classroom and lay eyes upon that woman would certainly think her a ghost, or a vampire; even to the students, her mortality was questionable.

Her looming stance left the class in stunned silence, and then, in a lucid voice, she spoke. "I am Professor Ravenwolf. This is Defense..." she emptied her left pocket onto her desk, revealing several stakes and her wand, "Against..." then her right pocket, two silver bullets, a few runes, a vial of some sort, and a talisman, "...the Dark...Arts." Then, she pulled a single crystal on a chain from around her neck. She held the end of the chain, letting the crystal swing in a circular motion. It spun faster and faster until it escaped from her grip, whizzing past the heads of the people in the first row, causing the girls in the front to scream. It stopped an inch from Neville's head, directly between his eyes. He was petrified, Ravenwolf approaching him and taking the crystal from his face. Ravenwolf stood at the head of the class, "...Any questions?"

Hermione raised her hand. Ravenwolf nodded.

"Erm... Professor? What will we be studying first?"

"Werewolf hunting, Miss Granger," said Professor Ravenwolf, returning all of the items on her desk to her pockets. Harry blanched. Werewolf hunting? Had she been hunting in the Forbidden Forest? Possibly Moony was still there, living off of small animals. Harry shuddered to think that he may be a shell of a man, hunted by a woman who replaced him in his job.

"Class," she said loudly, "we will have a start of term ability exam." Groans echoed through the classroom. "It will _not_ be of the written form." The groans died down. "It will be of general knowledge: boggarts, werewolves, dragons, vampires, trolls,giants, _dementors_... (a few students gasped) and most importantly- other witches and wizards. It will be given in the Forbidden Forest tomorrow evening after dinner. We will meet in the entrance hall and from there be escorted by Professor Hagrid into the forest. At the end of the year, we will have individual tests of knowledge, so it would do you all some good to pay attention in my class. It may even save your life." She smiled at Neville. "Let's begin with a bit of review. What is the spell cast to disarm a boggart? Mr. Weasley?"

"...Ridiculus."

"Correct. Miss Granger, what is the spell used to ward off dementors?"

"Expecto Patronum."

"Very good. Mr. Potter, you should know this- what is the curse that kills Muggle and wizard alike with a flash of green light?"

Harry couldn't believe what he'd just heard. Hermione seemed completely insulted as well. "Professor Ravenwolf!"

"Yes, Miss Granger- is it an unfair question?" Hermione's angered silence made the answer obvious. "Oh... I see. Well, this question shouldn't be taken offensively. Things in the past should stay in the past. Mr. Potter?"

"...Advada Kedarva."

"Excellent. Mr. Longbottom, is it? What can be used to ward of vampires?" Neville nodded, still a little unsettled from nearly being hit between the eyes by a flying crystal on a chain. "Cloves of garlic...?"

"No, no..." laughed Ravenwolf, "Garlic cloves aren't useful unless the vampire wants to season his prey. Anyone else? Miss Bullstrode, perhaps?"

"... A silver bullet?"

"Vampires, Miss Bullstrode- _not _werewolves." Ron and Seamus laughed, Millicent glaring at them threateningly. Slowly the laughter faded and they turned back around to face Professor Ravenwolf. Hermione raised her hand.

"...Yes?" said Ravenwolf.

Hermione sat up straight, replying clearly, "Lumos."

"Correct. Well done." Ravenwolf paced the floor addressing the class, "Sunlight is lethal to vampires. Crosses are their bonfires. They think nothing of garlic. Stakes, yes. But you must be an excellent aim to pierce a vampire's heart, therefore I do not recommend it." She stopped pacing and stood in front of Luna Lovegood. "Miss Lovegood. What is your input for today?"

"I know lots about werewolves," Luna said excitedly, "About silver bullets, and moon cycles, and..."

"I can see you'll be one of the better students. Very well, Miss Lovegood." The three of them snickered, watching Luna clutch her latest edition of the _Quibbler_ tightly to her chest. Luna? An excellent student? Maybe this year would be more entertaining than they had assumed.


	3. Tre

_Chapter Three_

At dinner, Hermione left room for Tamora at the table. "She'll be here any minute. We have important things to discuss." 

"Who?" asked Ron.

"Tamora."

Ron smiled broadly. Hermione's expression changed. "She's come here to talk, not to be with you. So don't even assume–"

"Here she comes, Harry." Ron urged everyone to move down so that Tamora could sit next to him. Every single Gryffindor on Ron's side of the bench groaned and tried to shut him up in so many words uttered with full mouths. Harry thought he even caught a few highly offensive choice words amidst the angered nonsense. Tamora sat beside Hermione and greeted Harry with a smile, "Finally. I've been trying to meet you since Ron told me about you on the train."

"Oh," Hermione said cheerfully, "He must have told you about me then."

"...No, actually."

Ron shied when he saw the fury blazing on Hermione's face. "Well," she said cooly, "That's all right. Ron's been quite _slow_ since he arrived at Hogwarts his very first year. Did I tell you about when he attempted to curse Malfoy to vomit slugs?"

"So," said Harry, changing the subject as tempers flared, "Sirius... was your father."

Her face was suddenly overcome with sadness, "Yes. I miss him terribly... I'm sure you do as well... He was your godfather after all."

Harry looked up, "You knew? But how come he never told anyone about you?"

"...Can we talk about this later? Somewhere quiet?"

"We can sneak you into the common room after supper," said Hermione, switching to a softer tone of voice, "Harry has an invisibility cloak."

"My father told me about that! He said he and James had had the most wonderful time sneaking into Filch's office with that cloak..."

_(A/N: Well I got my first negative review. Oh well. Isn't it strange how the people who give you reviews that say your fic is dumb never use a s/n? Also, if you don't like a story, why would you read a second chapter? If you don't like the first chapter, wouldn't it be a waste of your time to send a negative review? Oh well. Just my opinion.)_

"Sirius told you about my father?" Harry asked.

"I'll talk with you later. Meet me in the girls' bathroom- all three of you."

"How will you avoid Snape?" Ron asked.

"Don't worry about that. I've got it all planned. Just meet me in the bathroom."

Ron agreed, watching her walk away. Hermione was still furious. "RON! You didn't tell her anything about me?!"

"Sorry, Hermione. She was just–"

"–She's almost as smart as I am, and she plays Quidditch. I'll never get your attention for more than five minutes ever again!"

He blinked, "Sorry, you were saying?"

Hermione huffed angrily, following Tamora out of the dining hall. She walked straight to the girls' bathroom to wait for her, opening the door wide. She nearly stopped breathing when Tamora caught her eye.

She was sitting on the bathroom floor, her extremities changing slowly. Her knuckles were white as she curled her fingers into paws, though they were completely out of proportion. Her back rounded then straightened out, a tail protruding from her backbone. Hermione nearly screamed, but let out a small squeak trying to stop herself.

Tamora took great gulps of air, quickly returning to her original form. Hermione whispered awestruck, "...You're an animagi?"

"I have tried. I've been working at this all summer. I'm not really supposed to," she said, wincing and clutching her side. "I haven't mastered it yet, and it's painful to try." She whimpered now and then, holding her back where a tail used to be, "I think I should find a simpler animal. I can only choose one, though." She winced again, then muttered to Hermione, "I'll try again. He never finished teaching me how to turn into an animal. My father, I mean."

She whispered "animagus" and shut her eyes, a contorted smile on her face, "Finally." She quickly transformed from herself to her animagi. Hermione stared, then watched her transform into herself again. She nodded approvingly, helping her up off of the bathroom floor, "Let's go."

Ron walked into the bathroom and looked around, asking Hermione, "...Where's Tamora?" The small black cat leapt into Ron's arms. "_Tamora_?"

"Only temporarily," Hermione informed, "Until we can get into the common room." Harry stood behind Ron, completely bewildered. "Ready?"

Snape walked past them on the way to the common room, slowing when he was closer to them, "Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley." Snape stopped, immediately followed by Ron.

Hermione feared the worst.

"...Animals are not allowed anywhere in this school other than the common rooms. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Professor. We're on our way to the common room now."

Snape passed Harry with the cold stare he saved just for him. It had given him chills since he had first met Snape, and now was no different. They rounded the corner to the seventh level, Harry still looking back to see if Snape had left. "What's the matter, Harry?" asked Tamora. Hermione clapped her hand to her mouth, taken by surprise when she saw that Tamora was no longer a cat, but was still being carried by Ron. Harry snickered, a grin sneaking onto his face.

"Oh how clever," Hermione said sarcastically, "Put her down..."

Ron put Tamora down, then tried to get Hermione's attention to no avail. "Oh come on Hermione- it was just a joke."

"Let's not, Ron. I don't need another argument," said Hermione stiffly.

Tamora ran down the hall, transforming into a cat as she did. "Miss Black!" exclaimed Professor McGonagall sharply. She picked up the small black cat off of the ground, walking quickly towards Ron and Hermione, Harry close behind. Ron looked up in horror.

"McGonagall."

"So," said McGonagall curtly, "How many of you can... _transform _yourselves?"

There was uninterrupted silence.

"_How many of you are animagi_?" she repeated, looking from one to the other.

"Only Tamora," said Hermione truthfully. McGonagall believed her, though she remained poised and kept her gaze on Ron and Harry (who were apt to danger and rule-breaking, I might add), "Thank you for your honesty, Miss Granger. But ten points will be taken from Gryffindor, and awarded to Slytherin." With a light sound of paws hitting the floor, the small black cat that was Tamora changed back into her former self. McGonagall turned on her heel, smiling at Tamora, "Not every student can successfully transform themselves into another creature. As for you _three_- you'd ought to stay out of any mischief this year, now that our foremost disruptions have left. Yes, Mr. Weasley, I do mean your brothers!" She added thoughtfully, "...Though their attacks on Professor Umbridge were a work of sheer brilliance (a faint smile reminiscence turned once again to fury) that is beside the point! Report to your dormitories, all of you."

"Even professors from _our _house like her," grumbled Hermione.

"Come off it," Ron said, "I don't know why you hate her."

"Shh! Ron!" she hushed.

"I know you don't really like me at all," Tamora said. Hermione stood before the portrait, looking at the ground. "That's all right, Hermione- I haven't had close friends since my father's escape from Azkaban. When they knew that I was his daughter, my neighbors moved. So you see, it's not very different." Tamora turned to the black cat again, bounding gracefully into Harry's arms.

Harry gave her the password, but the fat lady refused them, "Whose is that? I didn't see that cat last night."

"Ah... It's... It's Neville's. He left it on the stairs yesterday." She pondered this, "Well I don't believe you, so if Dumbledore comes to yell at me I'll know who to send him to.." The portrait swung open.

Hermione felt a stab of guilt, "Tamora... I..."

But the cat was nowhere to be found. The flames of the fireplace splashed light and shadow into sharp contrast. "Oh, there you are." She was seated by the fireplace (in her original form, naturally) in one of the large armchairs.

"It's fine, Hermione. I don't care anymore. No one can replace him. Nothing can bring him back... And _no one..._can tell me any differently. Goodnight, Hermione. I'll find my way back to Slytherin unnoticed."

"Tamora-" Harry stopped her before she opened the portrait hole, "I need to know about Sirius." She made to leave again, but he grasped her hand, "Please. You're the only one who knows what it was to lose him."

She sighed, turning and sitting back in the armchair. "Well. I would rather talk to _only _those who can sympathize."

Ron sat at an armchair. Hermione took his hand, pulling him up and almost literally dragging him to the boys' dormitory stairs. "What? –Hermione- let go! Wha–" The confused speech continued, echoing until it could be heard no longer.

Harry and Tamora sat across from eachother by the fireplace. "Well," began Harry, "Anything you can tell me. You said you knew about my father. What did Sirius tell you?"

Tamora replied, "Every day he'd have a new story about the Marauders. They were best friends, my father and James. He and James were both animagi, and that's why he taught me; because he wanted me to teach you, Harry. He told me more about you than anyone. He wrote letters to you, letters trying to tell you about me. He never sent any of them. It was too dangerous for me. He was a wonderful father though. He'd always think of a way to make Christmas and summer memorable. Flying to other countries, sometimes even to other schools. It was a long trip to visit my classmates from Durmstrang."

Harry interrupted her, "...Durmstrang?"

"Yes, I went there while he was in Azkaban. Lupin said it was all for the best because the reporters were everywhere around Hogwarts, and I was too young to know how to avoid them. I was so sure he'd escape. And I was right. He wrote me a few letters, though I'm surprised Azkaban didn't drive him mad." She handed Harry four pieces of rolled parchment. She was more emotional now than before, her eyes filled with grief, "I miss him. I refused to believe it when Moony told me he died. Remus was so sad, so hollow. I knew what had happened before he even spoke. I knew he was dead. He'd spent years trying to reach me, and then he was taken away. I'd never gotten the chance to say goodbye. I've always rejected his death, even now. Trelawney only worsened it..."

"She's never had a correct prediction. Only once," said Harry, "and that's when she was unconscious."

"I know. But there's one thing I truly wanted to ask you...Harry... How did Sirius start the fight with Bellatrix?"

He had avoided thinking of the night Sirius died as much as possible, but every night he dreamt of it, and now, he knew it was the most he could to for Tamora, for Sirius.

"Sirius tried to save _me_. Just like everyone else for the past sixteen years. Everyone that I knew that died was saving me at the time, or killed by Voldemort because they were trapped between us."

"It's not true. It was never your fault... Bellatrix hated Sirius. She always did. It was only a matter of time before she challenged him to a duel. And if he was trying to save you, like you said- then... I'm glad he did." Harry smiled slightly, feeling in a sense that Sirius was watching. "Thanks, Tamora. But... how could you say that? He was your father, after all."

"But he loved you too. You were as close to a son as you could have been. That makes you a brother to me. When's your birthday, then?"

He was taken aback by the random question, "Erm... the 31st of July."

"Then you're also my _older_ brother," she snickered. "I was born in November. November the first."

"...I don't know why... But it's odd to think of myself as a brother to anyone."

Tamora laughed, "You've never had family in any form, Harry! Of course it's odd. Only my father. Surely those people, those _Muggles_, weren't anything like a family."

"Not at all." said Harry. "Not at all... Tamora?"

"Yes?"

"...How is it that you ended up in Slytherin? What house was Sirius in when he went to Hogwarts?"

Tamora began to explain the Marauders, completely captured in her own story, "My father was sorted into Slytherin because of his family history, even though he wasn't evil at heart. Being a member of the Black family, he had the potential to become a dark wizard like his other Slytherins, but he eventually befriended James... then Remus... then the most regrettable. He befriended Peter. You do know about Peter don't you?"

"Yes... I tried to destroy him, but..."

"He's an animagi, I know. Difficult to catch. They were the Marauders. None of them had any idea that Peter had become a servant of Voldemort. He and Bellatrix are the only people I've ever set my mind to killing."

Harry's eyes widened, "You're going to kill them?"

"Oh yes," she said casually, "Both of them. As soon as she escapes from jail, and as soon as I can find him."

"Tamora... You can't. She'll kill you. She and Wormtail... They're working for Voldemort. But... I will help you. Never go after them alone, do you understand?"

"You sound like my father when you try to discipline me." She smiled, "...Thanks." She kissed his cheek. "Goodbye, brother." She began walking towards the archway out of the common room. Harry's mind clouded. He'd never felt so loved, to have someone to relate to. Some type of family to cling to and to fight beside. It was the most wonderful feeling of his life. He returned to reality, "Tamora, wait!" She stopped halfway out of the portrait hole.

"...When will you teach me to become one of the animagi?"

"Soon. I'll have to get my things in order."

"Things?"

Tamora answered him plainly, "You shall see... Goodnight." She transformed to the black cat and crept through the slowly closing portrait hole effortlessly. Mews could be heard in the hallway, then, footsteps. Slow footsteps. Heavier than Tamora's. It was Snape. Harry ran to the portrait hole, keeping his foot in the way of it as it swung closed. McGonagall's hasty footsteps stopped, the sounds of heels finally commencing. "Severus. What brings you our house so late?"

"One of my students has gone missing. Miss Black never returned to the common room after dinner," said the slick voice of Professor Snape. The black cat hid in the shadows, but when her eyes reflected off of the small sparks in Snape's wand clenched in his fist, McGonagall's attention was drawn to the spot. She picked up Tamora for the second time that night. "I believe this is yours."

His brows furrowed in confusion. "...Minerva, what are you implying?" said Snape, McGonagall placing the cat in his arms.

"_This _is your missing student, Severus. Now take her back to Slytherin; this was not the second time I saw her today. Reprimand her as you will when you return to your house."

"Well, Miss Black," said Snape., "I'll be taking you back to Slytherin, and making sure you choose your comrades from the correct house. Goodnight, Minerva. Send my regards to Mr. Potter in the doorway there." Harry swallowed hard. How long had Snape known he was there?

"Mr. Potter," said McGonagall as soon as Snape left, opening the portrait hole wide. "I realize that you may care about Miss Black under the circumstances, but you must use caution and reason! She is, in fact, from our rival house! If she does, in fact, make keeper like rumor has informed, will you try to protect her during the final season?"

"No, Professor. Not at all." Harry walked back through the portrait hole to the dormitory to his four-poster bed. Ron was lying awake.

"How was it, Harry? She's incredible, isn't she?" Ron said with a yawn.

"Incredible," he answered, crawling into bed. "You were right all along."

At dawn, Tamora stretched and yawned, curling up in her bed. There were a few claw marks in the bed from when she'd crawled in last night, and she stared at them for a while, then laughed. Maybe Malfoy was a rat like Wormtail. Maybe she could hunt him down one day and pick him up by the tail, dangling him above her razor-sharp teeth. The thought amused her, but then she realized that this morning was Quidditch practice, probably the most important morning of the year. Of course, Draco, in an attempt to impress her, would show off in whatever position he played. But she would certainly be better as a keeper than he was as... whatever he was.

She dressed and took her Firebolt down to the Quidditch practice area, walking through the archway into the field, stopping before she ran into Malfoy and a short third-year boy.

"We have a new keeper this year," said Draco, "She's got more talent, and we'll have to take you off the team."

"Snape won't let you get away with this, Draco," piped the boy. "What will you give me if I leave the team?" Evidently, he was no fool. He knew that his position could be bought.

"...Give you?"

"Yes. What do you have to offer me?"

Malfoy smiled, "Ah. So that's the way you want to play it. All right. I'll give you one of the new Firebolts. The Blaze."

"Deal," said the third-year with approval, "When?"

"Tomorrow. I'll write my father," said Draco, sitting against the wall when the third-year left.

Tamora pretended she had just entered the field, "Well. I'm here. When do tryouts begin?" 

"Now," he said, standing up, apparently very pleased by her presence. He handed her a broom. She examined it carefully, "But I already have my own. A Firebolt."

"A gift," he said, "Congratulations on making our team. I regret that you won't be quite as good at Keeper as our last. He was quite a player."

"I thought I had more talent..?" said Tamora slyly, glancing him as she walked by him. He returned her gaze with an interested air. She took the broom from him, mounting it and kicking off. Instantly she felt a dramatic difference in speed and velocity of the broom as she soared upward, sailing through the air gracefully. The wind whipped her hair about, and she gave a second boost of speed to further her distance from the ground. She dipped low, only for a second to relish the look of wonder on Draco's face.

"Wonderful broom, excellent model. So, how much will I be buying this for?" she asked.

Malfoy stammered, then said nothing at all. He straightened himself out and took control of his mind... somewhat. "You're the most talented player we have on the whole bloody team..." he said, still awestruck.

"I can see you're not one to talk to right now..." said Tamora, "I'll be going to breakfast, then. See you in Flying class."

He finally managed to call her back without staring at her in any way. "We've got the entire team ready for a practice. Join us to finish your tryouts."

"Fine." She mounted her broom again and kicked off forcefully, soaring at least fifty feet into the air, steadily rising till she found a comfortable height then hovered. The other team members looked just as Draco had when he first saw Tamora flying. They joined her in the air, two flying quickly and darting everywhere, trying to knock eachother off their brooms with their clubs. The beaters obviously weren't the brightest on the team, but they served a purpose. "Who are you then, Malfoy? What position do you play?"

He opened the palm of his hand, showing her a small golden ball that resembled a snitch. "Can you play as a Seeker?" He held the makeshift snitch between his thumb and finger, preparing to drop it. When he did, Tamora dove for it, speeding head-first towards the ground. She wrapped her legs around the broomstick, extending both arms to reach for the snitch. When she caught it, she was a mere twenty feet from the ground. Tamora pulled up, holding on tightly. The ground was closer every second. Draco jumped, nearly flying down to help her, when he realized she had pulled up successfully, or so he thought. The end of the broomstick hit the ground, forcing her to flip over onto her back with a loud thud.

The others laughed, but it was Malfoy who flew down to help her. He landed a few feet away from her. She didn't move, and her eyes were half open. She didn't blink at all, and he began to feel his stomach turn. So very quiet and still, as if... She couldn't possibly be...

The rest of the team hovered at ten feet, becoming worried themselves. He reached for her wrist tentatively.

Suddenly Tamora opened her eyes wide, handing him the snitch with a pleased look on her face, causing Malfoy to jump back in horror, tripping over her broom onto the ground.. She smiled. "Anything else?"

The entire team laughed uproariously. Draco's cheeks were tinged an odd shade of red for a moment, and he took her outstretched hand, pulling himself up from the ground.

"Practices after supper, then?" said Tamora, evidently very pleased with herself. She strode away from him proudly, taking her own Firebolt with her. She called to him, "You can't buy my position in this team- but it was a tempting offer!"

Harry was in breakfast when Tamora walked in and sat across from him at the Gryffindor table. "Hello... Not that I'm complaining, but why aren't you sitting with Slytherin?"

"I don't really belong in Slytherin. Or Gryffindor," she added, greeting Ron in her next breath.

Ron scooted down the bench to sit next to her. "Why don't you belong in Gryffindor?"

"I'm a part of the Black family. I have the blood of a hero and a villain. Just like Sirius." Tamora knew the question to come.

Harry asked next, "Tamora... How come you're not living with your mother?"

"Because my mother is not alive," she answered, "she was killed the day my father was accused of murder. Yes. Peter Pettigrew killed all those helpless Muggles, but my mother was with my father at the time." She waited to see if they wanted her to continue. "Well, That day, I was spending my time with Lupin, or so he told me. I was too young then to remember. But my father and mother were out walking when Peter was sent by Voldemort to destroy Sirius. Everyone in his path died, including my mother. Of course, my father wanted revenge, so he drew his wand to kill him. But, he was gone. And my father was the only one left alive. He was framed, just as Peter had planned."

There was a long period of saddened silence before Harry spoke, "...What was your mother's name?"

"Her name was Rosaline. She and Lily had always been friends. In fact," she smiled, "James met Lily through my mother, and my mother met my father through James. They were all friends through their years at Hogwarts. My mother was on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team as a chaser, even though my father never joined the team. He was too busy with... well, I don't know. Most likely ruining Snape's day with the other Marauders."

"Moony told you all of this?" Ron asked.

"Well he did have thirteen years to tell me, after all."

Harry interrupted her, "I almost forgot- we have an exam in the Forbidden Forest tonight. Professor Ravenwolf's taking us out to the forest after dinner."

"Well I'd better be going. Malfoy's calling me over, probably to try to get me onto the Quidditch team again." She waved goodbye, and Ron was the only one of the three to wave back.

This time, Hermione simply glared, words obviously having no effect on him.

"We've been up against every single creature Ravenwolf mentioned, Ron," said Harry.

"Yeah," said Ron, "I think we can manage to pass this." Ron thought of Aragog in the forest four years earlier, "...She didn't mention giant flesh-eating spiders, did she?"

"No, no... But she did say we would be faced with a giant. You don't think she meant Grawp, do you?" he remembered the giant well from last year, and hoped beyond hope that they would not have to be his caretaker ever again.

"I don't think... but you never know with these Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers, new one every year..." Ron laughed. "This one looks like some kind of monster."

"Why thank you, Mr. Weasley," said a resounding voice from behind Ron. The shock turned to dread when he turned around to see Ravenwolf standing directly behind him, a pistol in her hand. He went ghostly white, almost to match her complexion, and he shook slightly with every word she spoke. "It's touching to find that so many of my students respect me. Hello Miss Granger. I was wondering if you could assist me in a bit of werewolf hunting around the end of October. I've been hunting one in particular, in the Forbidden Forest. He seems to elude me still." She was silent. "...How about you, Mr. Potter? It would be quite an experience, don't you think- putting those beasts out of their misery?"

"No thank you, Professor. And I was wondering, how is it that we will be dealing with giants?"

"Ah. We will be observing them in their natural habitat. I found a village of them not very far away." Harry was completely expressionless, far too surprised to react. Ravenwolf joined Dumbledore at the head of the dining hall, chatting jovially and acting as if their conversation hadn't taken place. When the shock was lessened, Harry finally began to speak again. "We were there. Do you remember? Ron, they'll try to kill us!"

"Harry," said Hermione, "Eat up. There's something else more important. You've got Quidditch practice after classes tonight."

_A/N: Sorry it took me so long to update! I wanted to complete an entire chapter so that I could begin a new one and you would know that I had updated (I don't think replacing chapters is shown as an update...right?) So from now on, I'm going to update chapter-by-chapter. Until then, keep reading! Harry Potter Numero Tre comes out in theaters this coming Friday! Huzzah! Everyone must go see it, and I found a pic of Sirius AKA Gary Oldman which is much much hotter than what you have seen in previews! tear I'm so proud! But still, he should've had black hair and no beard. And Lupin! Well, I won't go there... That's infuriating. Oh, and I apologize for not answering reviews last time. _

_Ps: Let J. K. make up witty chapter names. I'm here to tell a story, not to title it._

_Silvern Falcon- Yaaaay my first reviewer! I'm so proud! jumps for joy I was hoping I'd be able to pull off two OC's without altering the other characters' personalities too much. See? That's what most people don't do. I took three days thinking up character traits and backgrounds for Ravenwolf and Tamora and how they'd fit with everyone else. I think I'm starting to be a Potterholic. Oh well. More like a Dracoholic. Mmm Tom Felton! Well thank you, thank you, thank you._

_n6uos: I don't know who you are, and you didn't give your name. Whatever. Everyone's entitled to their own opinion. _

_Lady Rumbottom: My sentiments exactly. SIRIUS- I LOVE YOUUUU!!! NOOOOOO! Oh, I'm putting the hot Sirius pic from the movie on my profile. Huzzah! I love that word. Let me say it again. HUZZAH! Mwahahahaha! Well, we must indeed get our parody up and running again!_

_Potterfan8807- Feisty! Good word, good word. Once again, I am glad you liked it._

_Aimee Damita- Wonder how it happened, eh? Well, when a man and a woman love eachother very much... Hehe just kiddin'. Awww thank you! tear_

_Natalie Trace- Hehe BUM BUM BUMMMMM. Thank you. I shall update more often over summer vacation, which starts June 16 in the majority of NJ public high schools._

_Silvern Falcon: Thank you, thank you. I'm now obsessed. You reviewed twice! WoOt WoOt!_


	4. Quatro

_Chapter Four_

"Harry! Wake up!" Hermione urged. "Harry!"

Harry opened his eyes slowly, "...Go back to sleep, Hermione."

She persisted, "No! Wake up! It's Remus."

He sat up suddenly, "Remus- where?"

Hermione led him to the window. It was very dark, with only the moon shining down upon the werewolf, hunched over in the clearing. Before Harry could ask her how he'd gotten there, he also noticed Ravenwolf in shadow holding the pistol that Harry had seen this morning.

"Remus... no- get out of there," he muttered to himself. "Hermione- we've got to help him. Get Tamora."

"What about Ron?"

"Do you really think Ron will want to be forced awake now?" They both heard Ron snoring as he hung halfway off of the bed.

Hermione turned back to look at him. "All right. I need the invisibility cloak, though. There's no other way we'd get past the prefects, or worse- Snape."

"Can we both fit under the cloak still?" Harry asked. He lifted the cloak. "I don't think so. We have to hurry. I'll go."

Hermione smiled thoughtfully, "I have an idea." She swished her wand through the air. _Feroverto!_ Harry felt himself shrinking, everything around him becoming at least ten times its size. "Hermione, what's–" He tried to speak, but his voice was muted. Suddenly, he realized that he had sprouted small black wings and Hermione was carrying him away. "Sorry about that, Harry. But nothing else was going to fit under the cloak. We have to both be there, and you're not ahead in your studies in Transfiguration." She talked as she passed through the portrait hole, now changing to a whisper and removing her shoes so she would not make a sound. "Oh! And you're a raven, if you'd like to know."

They descended the steps, passing the Defense against the Dark Arts classroom on the third floor. To their luck, they had not encountered anyone yet, not even Filch or Mrs. Norris. When Hermione reached the entrance hall door, it was opened by the last person they wanted to run into... literally.

Snape walked straight into them, tripping backwards. His arms flailed wildly, reaching for something to break his fall. Hermione managed to grasp a portrait, tearing it off of the wall. Snape was not as fortunate. He fell to the floor, standing up as abruptly as he had fallen. "Who is there? Reveal yourself or find yourself suspended. Well well well... Mr. Potter, is it? I will return to Gryffindor, and when McGonagall finds you missing, I will make sure your cloak is confiscated. I would've taken great pleasure in seeing you expelled since the day you arrived, but until now, I had little proof of your... excursions." Snape walked quickly up the stairs, his destination being the Gryffindor common room.

"Harry, you have to go back. Fly to Ron." She put Harry's wand in his beak. "You have to leave, now. You'll never hear the end of it." Harry flew off of her shoulder, his wand clenched in his beak. _Beak. It'll never work... _He thought. _Ron's asleep. There's no way he'll know how to reverse this, even if I can wake him up._

There was one chance for him to be saved. _McGonagall_ he thought._ She's better to deal with than Snape._

In the meanwhile, Hermione was running frantically toward to the dungeons. She crept through the door, charging into the Slytherin common room. Tamora was still awake, sitting in an armchair. Hermione threw the cloak aside, startling Tamora. "Hermione! ...What's wrong?"

"It's Remus," she panted, trying to catch her breath. "He's outside. Ravenwolf is trying to kill him."

"...Where's Harry?" asked Tamora urgently. "Where is he?"

Hermione explained on the way, holding the black cat under the cloak. When she was finally outside, she transformed into herself again. "There," Hermione pointed. Remus looked worn and thin, even for his wolf form. Ravenwolf stood before him, holding her gun.

"It's been a few months since our last meeting. Who are you, then? Are you ready to tell me, or will I kill you?"

Remus snarled, stepping closer to her. He was obviously not aware of his actions as he used to be. "The wolf has more control than it used to," said Tamora. "We have to save him. Take this wolfsbane. I'll explain later." Ravenwolf cocked her gun, aiming for Remus' head.

Meanwhile, Harry was already at the door. The only difficulty was opening the door... McGonagall opened the door to the seventh floor corridor, and finally Harry dove for her head. She froze him, taking the wand from his beak. "...I might've known there would be a student out of bed, and transfigured, no less. _Feroverto._ Mr. Potter. I thought the threat of point deduction from your own house would force you to reconsider your actions. Well, I believe Professor Dumbledore should hear about this."

"I hope he does," said Harry, "and also tell him Remus is here." In the dark night, Ravenwolf was not the only soul preparing to strike.

"_Finite incantarto!_" Tamora cried, causing Ravenwolf's gun to erupt into flames. Hermione jumped. Ravenwolf turned toward her. "Leave this creature alone," she said to Tamora, "it deserves death."

"_He_ does not deserve death!" Tamora faced the gnarled werewolf. "...Remus?" When she stepped into the moonlight, his features softened, the snarl fading every second he watched Tamora. His eyes were clouded, and he disappeared into the shadow. Tamora saw his paw (the only part in light) changing to a foot very slowly and painfully. He let out a howl, but now it seemed more human than before. "Remus...! _Lumos!_" He was deformed and thin, and terribly similar to how Sirius had first looked when he escaped Azkaban. His flesh was exposed and torn in places, his hair unkempt; some had actually been ripped from his head. He looked a wreck, somewhere between his life as the wolf and death as a human being. Tamora found it an unbearably pitiful sight. "Oh Moony... what's happened to you?"

McGonagall's reaction to Remus' name was exactly as Harry had expected it to be.

"...P-Professor Lupin? Here? Oh...my. Return to the common room. I'll settle this."

"Snape- _Professor _Snape is after me." Harry briefly explained to her what had happened, then she stopped him short. "That's fine, Mr. Potter. Go to the common room, quickly! He'll have no reason to suspend you if you're in Gryffindor where you belong."

Harry ran up to the common room, bolting up the stairs and leaping into his bed. Only a minute or so later, he heard the dull footsteps of Snape on the stairs. "You may have succeeded through excuses, Mr. Potter, but you'll soon enough get your comeuppance." He didn't walk into the dormitory; instead, he simply turned on his heel and left, finding his battle lost. Ron was now awake, "What the bloody hell is going on, Harry?" Harry pointed toward the window. Ron looked out. "Harry! It's Remus!"

"I think Hermione was right. You are a bit slow on the uptake lately." Outside, most of the anger had diminished.

Remus spoke calmly, evidently in pain and trying with great difficulty to hide it from her. "Tamora- go back to your dormitory. Please. It won't be very long until the moon has its hold over me again. In the meantime, I'll have a talk with the professor."

Ravenwolf was still in shock. "...My god... Professor Lupin."

"You know me?" he said, forcing a smile.

"Know about you? You're the reason I wanted to become a professor. I was here the first time you taught. Don't you remember me?"

"How is that possible? I taught for the first time nearly twenty years ago. You still seem so young..." she finally became visible in the moonlight, and Remus nodded, "Ah. Ravenwolf. I should've known by your voice. Welcome back to Hogwarts."

Remus winced, using the wall as support for his weakened body. "Tell Albus I'm here, but tell no one else. I don't want to cause a stir." It was far too late. Already Tamora noticed noses pressed against every window on their side of the castle, prying eyes wide with wonder. "Remus... we have an audience," said Ravenwolf, directing his attention to the windows.

"Oh...no. Tamora! Get inside. The last thing you want is for them to see you."

Tamora walked toward Remus, wrapping her arms around his weak body and whispering to him consolingly, "They already know I'm here. I'm going to take care of you for once. How's that sound?"

Ron was still suctioned to the window, "Does she know Remus?"

Harry sighed and shook his head, "Go back to sleep. I'll get them both up here." He opened his only hinged window and uttered, "_Accio invisibility cloak!_" The cloak snapped into attention and floated to the window.

"Tamora," said Remus, "you can't do this. Everyone _saw_ me. You've already helped me enough. Please."

Ravenwolf helped him to move against the wall, backing into the shadow to avoid the prying eyes in the windows. Suddenly, Tamora could see Remus flying into the air. "Remus!" But he couldn't hear her. Up past the astronomy towers he sailed until she could no longer see him.

Hermione stood behind her, eyes toward the place she'd last seen Remus, "...What just happened?"

"Nevermind that. We have to get inside," said Tamora.

Hermione pulled the cloak over herself and the cat, running inside the castle. As she ran, Hermione noticed every prefect staring behind her. She turned around, only to find that she had left a trail of mud footprints from the door. She suddenly jumped, running faster toward the door to the staircases. "Potter!" yelled Snape. Malfoy scowled, running through the trail of mud to catch up with them. Before Hermione could dash through the door, Malfoy stepped on the end of her robes, causing her to fall backwards. The cloak slid off of them, and the black cat hissed, clawing at Malfoy's leg. Draco ripped the cat off of his leg, blood dripping from gashes torn through his robes. He was about to throw the cat against the wall when Hermione stood up.

"NO DRACO!" Hermione yelled, "It's Tamora! The cat is TAMORA!"

Draco's face immediately went pale and he let the cat out of his grasp. "Tamora?"

Tamora turned human again, crouched on the ground, "Yes, you fool! Congratulations. You nearly had me suspended! You nearly had me _killed!_"

He stammered, watching Snape approach the two cooly. "Miss Granger, I'd expected this much of you. But Miss Black, you've created quite a reputation in the _month _you've been here. I'd almost consider placing you in Gryffindor for these ridiculous acts. But you've been my top student, therefore you are exempt. As for you, Miss Granger. Fifty points will be taken from Gryffindor."

"Only fifty?" said Malfoy harshly, "After all, she was outside of the castle, aiding a werewolf of all creatures."

"Excellent point, Draco. I take great joy in deducting twenty-five more for placing Tamora in unnecessary danger."

"_Unnecessary danger?_" said Hermione incredulously, "Now you listen to me–"

"Severus," a voice floated through the entrance hall.

Snape nodded, "Albus."

Dumbledore spoke soothingly, "I must have a word with you in my office. The minimum amount of house points will be deducted from these two in the mean time. And Draco-" he smiled at the pitiful shade of green his face was turning, "you may not take it upon yourself to suspend other students or suggest house point deduction. Umbridge is gone, if you have not taken notice. The Inquisitorial Squad has been disbanded, and you are simply a Prefect. Return to your post."

"Filthy little mudblood," Draco spat at Hermione.

"However!" said Dumbledore. "I _will _remind you that I am the Headmaster. Ten points from Slytherin for impolite gestures toward Miss Granger."

Hermione smiled at him, "Go on, Malfoy. You don't want a girl beating you up again, do you?"

"Tamora," he said cooly as soon as Dumbledore left, "I don't know why you waste your time on these inferiors. Especially that lowly werewolf who called himself a teacher. Scum of the earth, and a second-rate wizard to top it all off."

Tamora's eyes narrowed dangerously, and she surged forth, smacking him hard across his face. "DON'T YOU DARE EVER MENTION REMUS AGAIN OR I WILL PERSONALLY SEE TO YOUR OBLITERATION, YOU SLIMY, ARROGANT–"

"–Tamora," said Dumbledore placidly, placing a hand on her shoulder, as if he had appeared out of thin air, "that will do. As I requested before, Draco- return to your post. And you two must return to your dormitories. It is late, and I have an old friend to see to in the Hospital wing."

Draco walked toward the dungeons, the same shocked expression plastered upon his face, and a red hand print on his cheek.

Hermione and Tamora parted, Hermione returning to Harry and Ron. "Hermione!" Harry called when she stepped through the portrait hole. "What happened? Where's Remus?"

"He's in the Hospital wing. Dumbledore's with him. Tamora threatened to kill Malfoy. I think we have her allegiance now."

"Why did she want to kill Malfoy?" asked Harry.

Ron sat up in bed, "Does she really _need _a reason? It's Malfoy."

"He called Remus all of these horrible things. I almost killed him myself," she said. "Ravenwolf and Lupin know eachother very well somehow. I'm not sure yet, except that he must have taught quite a while ago. Over twenty years, he said. She was one of his students. There's something very odd about her, don't you think?"

"You mean besides the way she looks and acts?" asked Ron in jesting.

"I'm serious, Ron. Something terribly wrong. And the way Remus just floated into the air."

"Do you think _she's_ going to be trouble, too?" he mocked.

"Oh shut up, Ron! You're more useful when you're sleeping," she said angrily.

"Harry?" asked Ron, "Why couldn't that beast of a cat been more like Tamora? Bloody monstrosity, that was."

"That _monstrosity_ wasn't the pet that sold out Harry's parents," she snapped.

"Will you stop?!" Harry finally bellowed. After a few more angered words, they all returned to their own beds before Percy could complain to them. "Bloody cat," Ron grumbled.

"Good night, Ron."

Soon enough, autumn had changed the trees to a deep crimson, flagrant orange, and shades of brown and yellow that made the leaves seem like brush fires. The Whomping Willow had long since lost its leaves in a fierce battle with two bludgers from Hufflepuff Quidditch practice. Quidditch season had begun, and so far, Gryffindor had been victorious over Hufflepuff, and Slytherin would be in a match with Ravenclaw in early November. Tamora had indeed formed quite a reputation for herself ever since the night that Remus returned to Hogwarts. She had not spoken to Draco since that time, though there have been a few fresh hand prints on his face.

The bright morning made every student of Hogwarts alive with hope of pleasant weather until the match between Gryffindor and Slytherin, the most important of the entire season. Ron was particularly cheerful today.

"I wonder if Remus will visit again," Ron asked. "I want to ask Tamora."

"Tamora! Is that all you think about?!" hissed Hermione.

He smiled, "Oh come off it, you know you're friends with her, too."

"But you just can't stop talking about her no matter where we go! From the–"

"–_first day you met her, all you do is talk about Tamora! Tamora, Tamora- I'm so tired of hearing about Tamora!_" he imitated in a high irritating voice. "You know, if you don't want to hear about her, you can just go read some more. The library's your real friend, after all."

"Don't you start on that, Ron. I have no patience for you already."

"I have no patience for either of you, carrying on like this," said Harry in an irritated tone. "Now please. We have to get to Potions or Snape will have our heads."

"Oh, when have you ever cared about Potions, Harry?" asked Hermione. "Sudden interest in _Tamora _taken you as well?"

"Hermione..." began Harry. But Snape stopped them at the door. "Morning," he said with a misshapen grin. "Sleep in today, did we, Mr. Potter?"

"Not enough to miss your class, obviously," said Hermione smartly.

"And Miss Granger," said Snape, preparing a cruel remark, "I didn't notice you there. Actually, I don't believe I was speaking to you in the first place. Not early enough to hold your tongue and just awake enough to boast your intelligence?"

Hermione passed him in a huff, taking her seat quickly. By now, Ron was used to seeing her 'appear' in several classes, instead of entering the room like other students. And moreover, it was very entertaining to watch the look on Malfoy's face when he sees someone seated in front of him that wasn't there a second before.

"I expect that you will all be prepared for your exam at the end of today's lesson," Snape said to the class, "since we have been studying elixirs for three days now. Taking this fact into consideration, this exam will count double." Groans of protest emitted from the students of Gryffindor and Slytherin alike were common, and Snape now took pleasure in hearing such noises of loathing.

"Next we will review animagi. Of course such review wouldn't be needed for someone with your _experience_, would it, Miss Black?" said Snape, his black eyes flashing.

Tamora smiled, nodding, "No, Professor. You're such an excellent teacher. It's a wonder that you were rejected the Defense Against the Dark Arts position again this year. And for a woman, no less."

"Five points from Slytherin."

"From your own house, Professor?"

"If need be," he said slowly, hinting his bitter rage.

Tamora smiled in Draco's direction, which was at least a change from her usual attitude towards him.

"And... if I did... this?" she continued, throwing one of his vials of dissolving potion at the ceiling. The ceiling itself dissolved in that spot, and a desk from above fell with a crash into the aisle. Neville sat in horror on the floor, staring at his desk, then the hole which he had fallen through. The Slytherins laughed and jeered him, each with a certain wickedness.

"Never can escape danger, can you, Mr. Longbottom?" retorted Snape. "Well Miss Black, I am the law in this class, therefore I must deduct another five from Slytherin."

"Only five? I did endanger a student and make that nasty hole in your ceiling- oh... And apparently in Professor Flitwick's floor. You did afford Malfoy the courtesy of choosing the number of house points deducted only last night."

"Twenty, then." Snape answered. "Though Longbottom was born only to put himself in danger, so it was no difficult task. Are you satisfied?" Anger was beginning to form between the Slytherins and Tamora, though she remained poised at her seat.

"Hm... No. Not yet." Tamora's mischief did not end there. With a confident grin, she opened a small bag of root of asphodel and mixed it with her healing elixir, and into that mixed wolfsbane.

"No!" Snape yelled abruptly. "Shhh..." said Tamora, putting her hand up to halt him. She flung half of the vial at Malfoy's desk, and it exploded in a puff of amber smoke. His face was covered with soot of that same color when it cleared, and his usually perfect white-blonde hair was blown backward.

"Ten points!" growled Snape, followed by, "Five, fifteen! MISS BLACK!" She flung amounts of the potion at select Slytherins.

"Miss Black- in my office at nine o'clock, and another five points will be deducted if you are late."

"I plan to be."

The Gryffindors were still laughing heartily and clutching their sides. Many cheered her after class, with "Well done, Tamora," and "Bloody brilliant, Tamora."

Harry smiled as the four of them walked down the hall together. "You know, Tamora, Fred and George would've been proud."

"My brothers," Ron explained to her, "They own Gambol and Japes, and I think they're trying to buy a share of Zonko's now that their business is growing, and–"

"–Sorry to interrupt, but here's my little pawn now... Hello, Draco," said Tamora in a tone as sweet as humanly possible.

Draco confronted her, still trying to smooth down his hair in the front and wiping as much amber soot off of his face as he could. "You just cost your own house sixty points. I don't care who your friends may be, but if you do anything else–"

"You'll do what?" Tamora smiled, keeping her sweet disposition, "Hit a girl?" Hermione was beginning to understand her plan, and it was proving effective. Tamora continued cheerfully, "No, maybe put a hex on me. Well, either way, _Mr. Malfoy_, you will be hurting house points. I'll stop trying to get on Snape's nerves, and you... ah- you will apologize to me and take back everything you ever said about Remus."

"Done."

Tamora nodded, "You're not bad at all, are you? Just a blonde, boasting, romantically constipated little teddy bear. You will apologize, in Potions, in front of every single one of your friends, while Professor Snape is in the room, or it is no deal."

"What a load of–"

"Fine. Next time, I will make some new claw marks in that leg of yours, and–"

"Deal, deal- anything, just _go away_." Draco left her in disgusted anger.

Ron hugged Tamora happily, "That was incredible! Brilliant, Tamora, brilliant!"

"_Brilliant, brilliant!_ God, it's no wonder you've got the vocabulary of a mountain troll, Ron!" Hermione walked away from him, down the hallway to the girls' bathroom.

"What did I–"

"Nothing," said Ron to Tamora, "She's just being herself. Harry told us you're going to teach us to be animagi."

"Yes. Tonight, actually. Everything's in order," she said happily.

Even Harry had managed to be lighthearted that day, since Quidditch practices would end earlier than usual, leaving time for animaigus lessons. _I hope I'll be a dog like Sirius was, _thought Harry. Carrying on the name of Padfoot would be the greatest honor he'd ever receive. Then again, he could be like his father; he could be Prongs. Then, he remembered his ordeal last year where he had felt a desire to lash out and bite like a serpent. He _was _a serpent, as far as he knew. What if he was to be a snake? It would be the most embarrassing moment of his life if the last link to his father was instead another reason that he was placed in the wrong house...

"Harry?" His mind reacted quickly with a grunt that meant 'yes'. It was Tamora's voice. Now he didn't even notice when he slipped into deep thought. It was more difficult to leave his thoughts... He was still in his thoughts, he now realized. "Harry?" he heard her call again. "Are you all right?" For a moment, he forgot how to speak. It was preposterous. The recesses of his mind refused to let him speak? "Harry! Are you all right?!" "What's wrong with him?" said a second voice he just barely distinguished as Ron's. "What's wrong with him, Tamora?" "Harry!" It echoed, and now seemed muted somehow. Was he fainting?

It felt as though he was floating above the clouds, and they were still on the ground, shouting, trying to be heard. He was flying. Such an incredible feeling, drifting through the clouds. "Harry!" he heard a voice, lower still, crying out to him. Then, he felt himself diving, backwards, soaring. He was soon to crash. He felt the ground beneath him, but it was not a painful landing. He had fallen onto... something, something soft. There were cloaked hooded figures looming around him in a large circle. At first he thought them to be dementors, but they seemed so familiar, and he could see some faces that he couldn't place... faces of wizards. He wasn't quite sure why, but they were laughing, laughing cruelly and coldly, like he had once heard Malfoy laugh at him.

Malfoy. Suddenly the name held some significance. He edged backwards and hesitantly looked behind him. Draco was sprawled on the floor, a pool of blood beneath him. His face was slack, but his eyebrows were contorted as if he was in pain. He was so pale... Harry felt a wrenching pain in his heart, his lungs did not permit him to breathe, and a flash of green light washed over him. How he wanted the pain to stop, how he wanted to scream...

"No! Draco!" he yelled, bolting upright in the bed. He was in the hospital wing with Tamora, Ron, and Hermione seated on a bed across from him. The sweat beaded on his forehead, and he breathed raggedly.

"Oh thank god you're all right. You gave us quite a scare, you know," said Tamora. "You've been asleep since morning. How are you feeling?"

"Fine," he said, astonished that he felt none of his previous pain. It had been a dream, though it was so real. "I had a horrible... dream. That's all. What time is it now?"

"A quarter till midnight. Well we'll be in the dungeons during the end of the Halloween feast tomorrow night, pretending to be in the library, obviously."

"Snape will never buy it," said Ron, "He knows we'd never go to the library... ever."

Tamora smiled, "Snape won't know. He and a few of the other teachers will be in a conference about Professor Ravenwolf. Something about... her place on the staff, I think." Harry noted Tamora biting her lower lip nervously, and that Hermione was just as uneasy, but disregarded it as something trivial. Then, he raised his eyebrows. Ron had noticed their odd behavior as well.

"All right, what's going on?" Ron asked them. They both shrugged. "Potions exam," said Tamora, "I'm just a little nervous."

Ron gave her a look of doubt and faced Harry. "What dream could do that?"

"Do what?"

"You sort of... stopped listening," said Ron.

"I couldn't hear you," Harry answered, "I mean... I could, but I couldn't say anything. It was out of my control. Then..." He didn't want to trouble them with his dreams, even though they weren't quite dreams. They were more.

"Tell me, Harry. Please. What did you see?" asked Tamora.

"I can't tell you," he said. "Besides, it's not important."

The three bid Tamora goodnight and headed to the dormitories. In the morning, all four sat at the table at breakfast. It was such a horrible vision he'd had, but each of them had tried at least twice that morning to get the truth from him.

"Please Harry!" Tamora begged on the way to her fourth class, "I have to know."

He finally decided to give in and tell them; after all, they had experienced so many worse things in the past. "All right. I was in a room, surrounded by... well, I think they were death eaters. I saw a few with familiar faces I couldn't place. But... it was just so real. And then Draco."

"What about him?" Tamora urged.

"...He was dead."

She gasped, a holding her hand to her mouth. "Oh god... Did you see Sirius?"

"No. Just Draco. There was so much blood... And I think I saw Lucius; I can't be sure, though."

"Draco's father?" asked Tamora, taking her hand from her mouth. Harry nodded. She continued to speak darkly, "He's still the leader of the death eaters. But I thought I read that he was in jail."

"He is," said Draco from behind them, "but he knows better than that. He'll escape that stupid prison. Dementors can't contain him. Who _is_ Lupin to you, Tamora? Why do you care about him so much?"

"Because he's my father's best friend. I chose him to be my guardian, if you must know," she answered stiffly.

Draco walked alongside her, farthest away from Hermione. "Guardian? He can't even protect you from himself."

"Not now, Draco. You don't want to upset me while I have my wand in my hand."

"I'm serious!" he said, standing in front of her. "I could protect you more than he could. He's dangerous."

"He transformed back into a human when I came near him. I can help him. And what makes you so sure you can help me? You can't even stop a bludger from knocking you halfway off of your broom in Quidditch practice."

Ron sniggered. Draco sneered at him, "You think you can do better, Weasel King? Do I have to remind you of last year?"

"Come on, Ron. We have to get to flying class," said Tamora, "Leave this scum to his business." She walked with Ron at her side away from Draco, and she almost mistook the look on his face for sadness. _He has no remorse_ she thought. Harry had seen it, too. He had also seen Hermione's angered stare, watching Tamora and Ron talking together as they walked down the hall. What was it about Tamora that she loathed? Or maybe it was Ron. Or both. Come to think of it, Hermione had been quite odd lately.

Harry internally shrugged, walking with Hermione to McGonagall's classroom. McGonagall rapped her wand against the desk for silence as everyone filed into the class. "Thank you," she said as soon as they were seated. "Today we will begin a new chapter: Human Transformation. This is a far more dangerous chapter than we have ever dealt with, since so many things can (and will, Harry thought) go wrong. Many witches and wizards have been stuck between animal and human, or object and human. It is very likely that at least one of you will be confronted with this problem in some form. Pay attention, Mr. Finnigan, this may be your lucky day. (scattered laughter could be heard)

"Everyone listen carefully, because I will only instruct you once. It is the same incantation, but a different wrist movement. Instead of a direct flick of the wand," she repeated the standard transfiguration wand flick, "it will be a swooping motion. A swish. _Feroverto._" She waved her wand in a half circle, transforming Seamus into a potted plant of some sort. Then, she swished her wand and muttered the incantation again. The flower pot broke and Seamus was left sitting at his desk again. "That was weird," he said excitedly. "...I think I liked it."

"Maybe you prefer to be a potted plant then, Mr. Finnigan? I can make the transformation permanent if you like. No? Well then, each partner must take turns trying to transform the other into a matchbox. Begin."

"I'll try first," said Harry. "I'm not so sure you'll transform me the whole way, Ron." Ron took this as an insult, then nodded truthfully, "All right. Go ahead then!" Harry held his wand toward Ron nervously. He swished it through the air, "_Feroverto!_"

Ron transformed quickly with an odd 'poof' into a dozen matches, but no box.

"Well done, Harry," said McGonagall, "move aside, move aside." She picked up fragments of cardboard. It was then that Harry understood that he had successfully performed the spell, aside from the fact that the matchbox had exploded, leaving bare matches.

"Will he be all right?" he asked. "Yes, fine, Potter," said McGonagall, placing all of the pieces on the table. "_Reparo._" The pieces of the box were whole again. "Now, Harry. Do not shout incantations. We are not warding off boggarts, we are trying to make Mr. Weasley a more useful object."

"_Feroverto,_" said Harry in a normal volume. Ron was curled into a ball on the table, looking disheveled and confused.

"What in bloody hell did you do to me, Harry?! I felt like I was... naked... but stranger. I think my hair fell off, like a wig. Whatever happened, I'm not trusting you to transform me anymore." Ron raised his wand, "_Feroverto._"

"Mr. Weasley. I would like to personally congratulate you on your very first time performing a spell correctly in my class." She transformed Harry back into himself and moved on with the lesson.

By dinner that night, the four were equally exhausted. There had been a total of three exams, four assignments, five matchboxes, and three guinea pigs (Ron had accidentally transformed Harry into two guinea pigs instead of one).

"Welcome, everyone," said Dumbledore. "We will soon begin our Halloween feast. The sooner you are silent, the sooner we will be able to stuff our faces with the food you see before you. Good. I would like to announce that Professor Ravenwolf has taken a short leave of absence from our staff. Taking this into consideration, Professor Lupin will occupy her position until she is able to return." The Gryffindors cheered loudly, Remus standing to take a bow. Dumbledore held up his hands. "In continuance of tradition, I will begin our feast with my most favored phrase of commencement. Tuck in!"

Each of the three ate very quickly, gulping pumpkin juice and hurrying through dinner in preparation for their meeting in the dungeons. "Y' dumn yerh?" slurred Ron.

"Speak English, Ron," said Hermione.

Ron swallowed his food. "You done yet?"

"Yes," Harry and Hermione said simultaneously. Harry checked that Tamora was finished, then they all left the dining hall at the same time.

"That was too simple," Hermione whispered when they descended the steps to the dungeons.

Tamora lead them into a small classroom that resembled a torture chamber. "What is this?" asked Hermione.

"Detention."

The three exchanged glances. "Now," said Tamora. "We have to begin slowly. I've acquired some extra equipment in case."

Ron inched away from a metal rodent cage. "In case?"

"In case something goes wrong. That's why we're in the dungeons. None of you know the way back, and the door locks on its own."

"Do I have to mention how creepy that is?" Ron cringed. Tamora laughed at him. "That's all right. I know how to open the door. First, the process of choosing an animal that best fits your character. That is the most difficult task. Some people already know, some people do not. Try the animal you think best represents you, not your favorite. Chances are none of you are dragons."

"How do you know?" Hermione asked doubtfully.

"Sirius knew."

Harry focused first on the black dog. "Then what?" he asked Tamora.

"Well," she explained, "it's a process. You must trust your instincts, picture the animal, then simply transform, if you've chosen correctly. It's helpful to see yourself in a situation as that animal. The first time you transform, you must point your wand at yourself, like so. _Animagi_. Though I don't need the incantation, you may need it for a while if you're slow to transformation."

"_Animaigus!_" Hermione said, waiting to transform.

"Which animal did you pick?"

"A Persian cat," she replied.

Tamora shook her head, "No no. A cat isn't you at all." Hermione contained her anger. "Hermione, try a bird. Any type that comes to mind."

Hermione tried again. "_Animaigus!_" This time, wings sprouted from her shoulder blades. They all turned to watch Hermione transform. It was amazing how quickly she had changed. Ron fell down laughing, pointing at the slightly ruffled brown owl on the stone floor. Even Harry laughed when he realized that Hermione had finally become the most mythically wise creature in the wizarding world... which was coincidentally the most degraded pet as well

Ron still laughed while muttering the incantation, then stopped. His eyes bulged. Hermione was transforming out of her owl form when she began to laugh uncontrollably, pointing at the small toad where Ron had once been standing. "Serves you right," she giggled. The night became a bit colder in the dungeons, but neither Harry nor Tamora seemed to notice, too busy doubling over with laughter at the sight of the two disgruntled pets battling eachother.

Harry had tried everything save two animals: the stag... and the snake. He set his mind to it now; he would rule out the snake first. His hand shook and he whispered the incantation, but nothing happened. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and pictured the stag which he had called forth in his patronus many times before.

Hermione and Ron whooped and cheered when they had stopped fighting long enough to become human again. Harry was a white stag, identical to his father. It comforted him until he heard hurried footsteps echo in the dungeon staircase and was forced back into a human form.

"Snape!" whispered Harry. They all hid in the shadow, except Ron, who had accidentally transformed himself into a toad again. Tamora tried to transform him back without success, then ran into the shadows with him when she was unsuccessful. The door opened. It was Malfoy, back early from the feast.

"Who's there?" Silence. "Show yourself!" Silence. "I'll have no trouble reporting whoever gets in my way. Show yourself or face detention with Filch."

'Crooooaaaaak.' Ron had spoken, sort of. Draco caught sight of the toad in the sliver of light produced by the open door. "Longbottom's stupid toad made it down to the dungeons? I wonder how long it will take him to notice, the git." Ron continued to croak as he was being carried down the hall, and the voice of Malfoy could be heard trying to silence it, echoing down the staircase until it could no longer be heard.

"Oh no! We've got to get Ron back, Tamora!" said Hermione.

"I'll get him back. You should both return to Gryffindor now. I'll sort this out."

Harry stopped in the doorway, "...How?"

"I have my ways."

Tamora crept out of bed to the common room, then into the boys' dormitories. From what she could tell, the rest of Slytherin was still at the All Hallow's Eve festivities. She scanned Malfoy asleep in his bed with a sly grin. She searched the room for the toad, but when she couldn't find him, Tamora slowly but surely reached for the end of Malfoy's pillow, preparing to lift up the corner and look for the poor creature that was Ron. Without warning, Draco's eyes snapped open from his helpless state, and he flipped her onto the bed. Draco loomed over Tamora, a hand on each side of her leaning on the mattress, like a predator stalking his prey. A smile spread across his face in the dark.

"I don't think I have to ask what you're doing here."

"Draco," Tamora uttered, "You know perfectly well why I'm here." Unsettled by his presence, her voice shook a bit.

"Scared?" he purred, moving closer to her face, "I hope so."

"Scared- of you?" she mocked. He could feel her trembling beneath him when he moved closer still, which brought an even wider smile to his face, "Why yes, Tamora- I think you are." She could feel him moving in even closer, trying to keep her wits about. "I've wanted to know since Quidditch practice...Was it really a tempting offer?" he purred, trying to render her senseless. He leaned closer... hovering less than an inch away from her, leaning in to kiss her, then...

"Locomotor mortis," she said, wand pointed at his legs.

His legs straightened involuntarily and locked in their current position. Malfoy rolled off the bed to the floor with a 'plop'. He tried to reach his wand, wriggling on the floor, finally lacing his fingers around the end. Muttering the counter-curse, he sprang to his feet, holding his wand at her chest. Her eyes moved down to the wand. "Well that's just cruel."

"Go back to bed, Tamora. Next time I won't be so..._generous_ as to let you leave."

"Goodbye," she hissed, leaving, "Good riddance." Had not the toad croaked, she may have stepped on Ron walking out of the dormitories.

Draco smirked, "She'll be back to apologize any minute..."

Tamora walked back in, "_Accio bedsheets!_ It's cold in our dormitories, you know." She descended the stairs triumphantly, Draco's eyes narrowed. He stripped an empty bed of its covers, bringing them to his own nearly-bare mattress. Then, he had a much better idea...

The sun shone through the dust-laden windows on the bitterly cold morning that followed. Tamora shivered, drawing the covers over herself, snuggling to the strange warmth radiating from the opposite side of the bed, inching nearer to... "DRACO! GET OUT!– NOW!"

He laughed, slinking out of bed as random objects flew across the room towards him. He conjured a defense charm and the objects stopped short of him, crashing to the ground. He took the covers with him back to the boys' dormitories, leaving Tamora on her bare bed shouting furiously. A light-haired seventh-year prefect boy bolted up the girls' dormitory staircase. "Miss Black- are you alright? What happened to your sheets?"

Later in detention, Malfoy finished polishing the Gryffindor House Cup angrily, "Reporting me, the nerve of her..."

"Not a word out of you, Mr. Malfoy," said Professor McGonagall, "In the girls' dormitories- And to think Professor Snape made you a prefect again this year. Ha! We'll certainly see about that, won't we?"

"Apparently so,_ Minerva_," he sneered.

"Any sarcasm toward an authority figure deducts ten house points for every word spoken. Do you understand me?"

Draco stopped short of getting himself in deeper trouble. "Yes, Professor McGonagall." He polished the next trophy begrudgingly, wearing down the finish.

"Careful, Mr. Malfoy," warned McGonagall.

_A/N: Bwahahahaaaa that was fun. I'm addicted! All right. Reviews, reviews. Actually, I have no reviews for chapter three because I already posted it. Oh well. Thank you for reading!_


	5. Cinque

_Chapter Five_

"It's been spread through the entire school by now," Harry heard when he approached the breakfast table in the morning.

"What has?" he asked Hermione.

"Slytherin's been spreading loads of rumors about Tamora and Draco," muttered Ron. "If I see Malfoy again, I'll kill him."

"What kind of rumors?" asked Harry.

Hermione sighed, "Well, they're not quite rumors."

"Why's that?"

"Because they're true. Shall I start at the beginning?" Harry nodded at Hermione. "All right. Sit down and eat, Harry. No wasting time. Well... Last night, Tamora snuck into the Slytherin boys' dormitories to look for Ron. Rumor is that Malfoy... erm. I don't think I should tell you this. You'll go off trying to kill him like Ron."

"Tell me, Hermione!" Harry snapped.

"All right, don't have a fit. Draco... he..."

"He what? Hermione- what happpened?!"

"_He took advantage of her, all right?!_" she said softly, ashamed to even speak the words. Harry immediately began to boil over with anger, his skin suddenly heating up. He whispered to Hermione, his temper flaring. "Where's Tamora?"

"Talking to Remus on the third floor. She didn't say anything to us yet."

"And Draco?"

"Quidditch practice, I think. But Harry, please don't hurt him, we'll have house points taken."

"I don't care," he said, "this is more important now."

"Please just talk to Tamora first! Harry!" Hermione followed him out onto the grounds to the practice Quidditch field. "Harry, just listen to me!"

"Malfoy!" Harry fumed. Draco dismounted his broom. "Hello Potter. Come to see what real talent looks like?" He kept his hand in his pocket, clasped around his wand. Malfoy laughed, "Or have you come to duel?" Malfoy reached into his pocket to retrieve his wand.

Harry drew his own wand, fury reaching a feverish anger, "_ADVADA_-"

"No!" Hermione dove at Harry, knocking his wand out of his hand.

"Let me go, Hermione! I'm going to kill him for what he did to Tamora!"

"No matter how much I'd love to see him dead, I'm not going to let you become a murderer! So calm down before they– Oh no, they're already here."

A small group of teachers were in the archway onto the field, standing still with fright. "Harry, come inside," said Lupin, running towards them. He rushed Harry through the archway, Hermione following close behind with his wand. Once they were at the staircase, Harry tried to free himself from Remus's hold. It was useless, just as he had expected. Malfoy would pay for what he had did. Malfoy would die. Maybe the premonition was correct. Maybe he had killed Draco himself, and the death eaters were angry. He hoped that was how it ended. But he had been upset to see him dead. Why had he been so upset?

Harry just barely escaped tripping on the last step when Remus pushed him into his temporary classroom.

"Just what do you think you were doing out there, Harry?!" Remus yelled. Harry had never seen him so angry before, not since his days as a werewolf. "You could've killed him!"

"...That _was_ the idea."__

"Do you know the danger you could have put yourself in by killing Lucius Malfoy's son?!"

Harry glanced at Remus, "But Lucius is in Azkaban."

"That's where you're wrong, Harry," he said, holding up today's issue of the Daily Prophet. He slammed it down face-up on the desk Harry was seated at.

_ AZKABAN PRISON ESCAPE WORRIES LOCAL AUTHORITIES_

_Lucius Malfoy, an incarcerated death eater, recently made history being the _

_ second fugitive to escape Azkaban prison. He was reported missing from his_

_ cell on Tuesday morning, and has not yet been found. Cornelius Fudge,_

_ Minister of Magic, agreed to comment on behalf of the Ministry. _

_ 'We are searching every house of every street for the escaped, but _

_ have not received any leads whatsoever. We will be working day and night_

_ to find Malfoy, but until then, we must heighten security surrounding the _

_ prison so that this incident will not become a trend.'_

_ When asked for his input on the discarding of the body of the recently _

> _dead convict, one Sirius Black, Fudge refused to comment. _
> 
> _ Dementors are searching the area for clues to Malfoy's whereabouts, and local ___
> 
> _law enforcers have been notified to arrest or kill the wanted criminal if he is _

_ sighted. _

Harry stopped reading, suddenly feeling disheartened. "They have Sirius' body?" Remus shook his head.

"No, but Fudge wants to keep his position as Minister, so he takes the credit without actually having any proof. Keep reading."__

_ Furthermore, Malfoy aided in the escape of one Bellatrix Lestrange, who _

_ was coincidentally arrested the same night as Malfoy. Lestrange, however,_

_ has been sighted in Little Whinging, as well as London and Liverpool. _

> _Lestrange was convicted of the murder of her cousin Sirius Black, and is considered _
> 
> _highly dangerous. Her current location remains a mystery, but the same caution _
> 
> _should be used if sighted._

Harry moved his eyes to the top of the page, where a much gaunter mug shot of Lucius was smiling wildly. Every so often, his eyes darted left and right, then the same smile crept onto his face. It was disturbing, even more so than the first picture he had ever seen of Sirius on the front page of the Daily Prophet. Lucius' eyes were more disturbed that Sirius' had been; Lucius had lost all of his sanity, it was clear to anyone who would examine his face.

"Tamora stepped out for a moment, I thought I'd have a much more difficult time of controlling you. She has explained to me... well, I'll bring her in."

"Don't injure him, he has to play Quidditch," joked Remus.

Tamora latched onto his lower arm, "Remus, no. You're not leaving. I'm afraid you won't come back." Remus embraced her, planting a kiss on her forehead, "I'll be here for nearly a month. I'm not leaving until I have to, all right? As I said, don't hurt him. I have to have a talk with Dumbledore."

Harry hadn't realized until then that though Harry had lost a godfather, Remus was now Tamora's only real family that missed Sirius. The Lestranges hated him, the Black family was ending with her, and now, Remus would be tortured by the moon. Harry was her only connection now, and he would have to become more than a brother. He'd have to be a guardian for her; a protector. All of these thoughts came to a screeching halt when Tamora closed the door behind Remus.

"Harry, how could you?!" Tamora leaned on the desk, face to face with the misinformed.

"I thought I'd be thanked after what Draco did to you!" Harry exclaimed.

Tamora laughed, "What he did to me? He did nothing. He tried, I'll give you that. My god he did try..." She smiled softly, then became serious when she saw Harry staring at her. "But I can take care of myself."

Draco was searching for Harry when he overheard his own name, quietly approaching the door and cracking it open a bit. He sat on the floor, leaning against the wall outside of the door. He listened to the silence before they began conversing again.

Harry felt relief washed over him, "But I should kill him for trying."

"I give him credit for trying."

"Well, you have Quidditch practice, don't you?" asked Harry.

She sat in the desk next to him, "No. I've been granted a day to spend with Remus before he begins to teach. I want to know what he's been doing since I saw him last."

Harry stood up and walked out of the door, holding it for her. "Tamora, why can't they just give him some kind of cure? Wolfsbane?"

"No," she said, "Wolfsbane can be used to kill the wolf, but he's so attached to the wolf that it will make him deathly ill or kill him with it. Amulets can't help, but they can change the manner of his moon cycle."

"What do you mean?"

"He could have a very fierce and painful time of it, and it would last an hour instead of twenty-four. But, he could do much more damage to himself, not to mention others." She sighed. "That's why he refuses. I told him to use the amulet so he could keep his position on the staff, but he's afraid he'll endanger my life. He may not recognize me if the wolf's hold over him is stronger. He may not be able to stop himself from harming me."

"You know he's right, don't you?" Harry said.

"What's right is usually the most pain in the end," said Tamora. "I don't want Remus to leave me for too long. You know, Harry. I'm much more fragile than you think." Harry's ears perked up and he looked at her quizzically. "Yes, I am. I may come off as so dependent. If it wasn't for Remus, I wouldn't have been able to bear the pain of my father's death. And if it wasn't for you, I wouldn't know anyone that truly knew and loved both of them."

"Remus didn't tell me very much about the Marauders," said Harry, "but I've seen some things. They were very cruel to Snape when they were young. Most of the time he didn't even deserve it... it was horrible."

"Snape's fine. He was just a very awkward person. Probably lonely as a child, am I right?" Tamora could tell she was by Harry's amazement. "I can read people very well."

"How do you read Malfoy then?" asked Harry, "What makes that coward's mind tick?"

"I've met his father, this summer at a Quidditch game. I think that's where his hatred comes from. His father is truly a monster."

"And Malfoy himself? What do you see?"

Tamora thought on it, replying slowly, "Well... He's very lonely, like Snape. Unlike Snape, he has the potential to find a girlfriend. He's got money, friends, and his own world of superiority and egoism. I think I've knocked him down a few notches, though. It's really because he knows he's a coward, though. He's not all evil."

"Yes, yes he is," said Harry. "The cowardice is his strong point."

"I believe his father has such a hold on him that he is frightened for his life. His father is dangerous, especially now that he's escaped. That ego of his, though... That I must erase."

Harry whispered to her, "Shh... Someone's outside the door."

Malfoy stood up quickly and silently, walking into the room next door. Tamora popped her head outside of the door. "Who was it?" Harry's hand snapped to his robe pocket, retrieving his most valuable item.

"The Marauders' Map!" whispered Tamora, watching Harry unfold the map. She put her wand to the map, "_I solemnly swear that I am up to no good._ Remus told me."

Ink flowed onto the map in graceful lines, a perfect outline of the school. They saw two small dots labeled 'Harry Potter' and 'Tamora Black' standing beside eachother, and behind them to the right a dot labeled 'Draco Malfoy' that was fading in and out. "...Why is it blinking?"

Harry understood completely, turning to the door next to him. "Tamora, you never got my invisibility cloak back, did you?" Tamora smiled slyly, shooting sparks into the room through the keyhole.

Draco yelled in pain, and Harry flung the door open. Draco was laying on the floor; the cloak had fallen off of the top half of his body, and he was clutching his side. "And I almost thought you had some sympathy. And you, Potter. At least I don't faint every time I see a black cloak."

Tamora held Harry's hand so that he wouldn't reach for his wand. Draco grinned, "If _my_ father had granted a transfer to Gryffindor, I would have become garbage like Weasel King. Now Tamora, you were chosen for Slytherin, no matter what your father did. You were chosen to join us."

"I was sorted into Slytherin because I do have reason to become a dark witch."

Draco scoffed, "And what would that be?"

Harry stopped her, "The Quidditch match is tomorrow, Malfoy. No one can hear you boast if they're all cheering for Gryffindor."

Harry lead her down the hall to staircases, leaving Draco behind. "How come you never told me Sirius was transferred to Gryfindor?"

"I thought you knew," said Tamora. "After all, Remus had a picture of the six of them in Gryffindor robes, save one, on his desk."

"Six?"

She nodded, "The four marauders, Lily, and my mother. She was in Slytherin all seven years. It must have been difficult for him to choose who to cheer for during Quidditch games. You can ask Remus yourself, you know. I've seen so many memories lately."

"Seen?"

"Sit down, Harry," said Remus once he and Tamora were inside the classroom. "Tamora told you about the pensieve then. I thought she would." He smiled at Tamora.

"Actually, I studied with Professor Snape for a while last year, and..." he remembered what he had seen in Snape's memories, "...and I've seen a pensieve before."

Lupin pressed the tip of his wand to his head, removing a flowing silvery strand. He placed it in the pensieve and urged Harry to look inside.

He was consumed by the thought, it seemed, his eyes closed shut. He began to hear laughing and cheerful voices.

"Come on Peter!" a young, slightly rough voice echoed. "Pass it here!"

"James! Look out!" he heard the very familiar (and dramatically younger) voice of Remus call out. The memory was still blotched, coming slowly into focus.

"Cut it out, Padfoot!" James laughed. Harry could hear brooms soaring overhead, then... he could see them. They must have been sixth or seventh-years, each of them ripping through the sky towards eachother, passing a rather shoddy Quaffle. Sirius was switching positions from Beater to Chaser now and then, confusing them and laughing the entire time.

Remus, the only one not playing, was sitting against a tree, completely absorbed in a book. "Come on, stick in the mud! Play with us!" Sirius goaded. "You have to! Wait, if he his a stick in the mud," he said to James, "shouldn't he be appropriately dressed?"

"You're right."

"I know," said Sirius proudly. He dismounted his broom, blocking Remus' light to read.

"What do you want?" Remus said, looking up from his book for the first time. Harry smiled, he had been handsome, but aloof as a teenager. Sirius was the exact opposite, strikingly handsome, and to Harry's surprise, followed by a group of swooning witches wherever he went (that he seemed to thoroughly enjoy). Remus laughed, "your fans are here again, Sirius. You'd better go talk to them before they come over here and– oh, nevermind. Here they come now."

The small group giggled, walking towards Sirius, who turned around, causing them to giggle even more furiously. He smoothed his hair, answering with as much ego as possible.

"Hello ladies; Lily." Each of the witches had looked over him at least once, from his face to his entirely black attire.

"He mentioned Lily!" whispered one of the girls excitedly. The group decided unanimously to push Lily to the front. "Hello Sirius."

"My, you look lovely today," he complimented, looking over her.

Harry was puzzled. Did Sirius and Lily have some type of feelings for eachother?

"Thank you. You're looking rather dashing in all that black," Lily answered. The girls were now becoming very angry with Lily. Had she not mentioned Sirius' clothing, they may have all gone green with envy.

"Sirius!" piped a younger girl. "Who will you be taking to the seventh year formal ball?"

"Lily, of course!" said Sirius, flashing a smile. "Who else would I choose?"

Several witches sighed sadly, others groaned and became extremely jealous. After a few minutes of uninterrupted silence (while each and every girl examined Sirius with a certain degree of wonder, among other things), the throng of girls left Lily with him. Remus' interest was now peaked, though he continued to read his book. He didn't look up when he spoke to Sirius. "Do you do this to every group of girls- lead them on like that?"

Sirius admitted, "I have to do something to keep half of the seventh year girls from asking me to the Formal Ball. Thanks Lily."

"No problem," she smirked, "but I still think you enjoy that a bit too much."

"Which? Acting all lovey-dovey or the girls?"

"Which do you think?" she said, giving him a look that plainly called him a self-centered git.

"All right, I do enjoy them a little."

"_A little?_ You practically tell them to come back, the way you keep fooling with their minds."

"That's not all they wish I'd fool with," Sirius boasted.

Remus, James, and Peter exchanged a groan. "Sirius, not in front of a girl," said James. "Keep some morals, won't you?"

"Hasn't the faintest of what morals _are_, James," Remus said, still reading his book.

"Oh, lighten up, Moony! You've been reading too much." Sirius consulted James, "What do you think, James- is there a cure for this poor git?"

"Only one."

Sirius kicked mud onto Remus' immaculate clothes. Remus finally looked up, mud dripping from his hair. "I didn't want to have to resort to this."

"Oh no, Sirius! He's going to throw his book at you, look out!" Peter jested, pretending to hide, shivering, behind James' cloaks. Lily laughed along with the other three.

Remus sprang to his feet, wrestling Sirius to the ground. He left Padfoot on the ground, mounting his broom and kicking off into the air.

"No one can beat me on a broom, Moony!"

"Then it should be a challenge!" Remus called.

Harry laughed and felt a sudden jolt in his heart. They had all been such close friends, he could feel it... He saw at once a woman with long black hair and all black clothes at knew from the first glance that it was Tamora's mother. _She's so beautiful,_ thought Harry. _Tamora looks so much like her. And Sirius. Sirius must have been a wonderful father..._

Just then his attention was drawn to another boy with long blonde hair who also seemed to have his own fan club. It was none other than Lucius Malfoy, though he seemed younger than the others.

"Who's that?" said Peter to Lily, pointing at the blonde boy.

"Lucius Malfoy," said Lily, disgusted by the name, "very cocky. He's a third-year and he's already got himself a fan club."

Rosaline walked towards Lily, "What did I miss?" She sniggered at the two; Remus throwing golf balls at Sirius and Sirius swinging a club at him, both dangling off of their brooms. "You call that a Quidditch match?!" she yelled at them. Both stopped in their odd positions, Sirius now holding onto Remus' broom and wrapping one leg around his own. Remus was hanging upside down with both his arms flailing to catch his scarf from falling.

"Hello Rosaline," Remus smiled, blood rushing to his head. "Remus, Sirius. Get down from there and play some real Quidditch. Hello James!" Rosaline embraced James, then mounted her broom. "Do I really have to go up there?"

"...'fraid so," said James with a mischievous smirk. "Sirius needs someone to give him a little... shove, in the right direction?"

"I'm catching on," said Rosaline, flying up to them and pushing Sirius off of his broom. Remus took a hold of Sirius' broom while Sirius yelled, spiraling towards the ground. Rosaline dove and caught him, the broom dipping under the weight of both of them. Back on the ground, James, Lily, and Peter were laughing hysterically, not just at Sirius, but also Remus.

"Still think you're the best, Padfoot?" James yelled. Remus was balancing with one foot on each broom, showing off, then nearly falling.

"I don't think it, I know it!" said Sirius. Before he could speak another word, his broom hurtled towards him, and he caught it before it smashed into the ground. He sighed, "That was too close. I'll have to get that stupid werewolf for that."

Rosaline let him down onto his own broom and together they met Remus at two hundred feet. "Just you, me, and Rosaline now. Two against one."

"Where do you get off thinking I'm on a team with you?" asked Rosaline. Remus smiled. "Or you," she continued. "I am on no one's team. Hand me one of those clubs, will you, Moony?"

She hit Sirius in the back of his head with her club. "That's for entertaining your fans while I'm not around. Thank you, Moony. Let's play!" She zipped around in giant loops, flipping upside down and the like.

"Can you believe this woman?" Sirius rubbed his head. "I have every single witch in the castle chasing after me..."

"But you don't care about any other witches."

"Yes, I know," he let out a sharp groan, "that left a mark, I'm sure..."

"She's already left a mark on you, Sirius." Remus waved a folded piece of parchment in his face. "Love letters?" Sirius nearly fell off of his broom trying to retrieve the note.

"Give me the parchment back, you bloody werewolf!"

"Oh, I can see why you'd be so angry with me. Dearest Rosaline. Oh... my." Rosaline hovered behind Lupin, blushing a deep red as her eyes moved over the page.

Remus held up his hand and ordered the broom to stop. It reacted immediately, nearly knocking Sirius off. "What in hell have you done to my broom?!"

"Correction, my broom. It only listens to me. So, Rosaline, what do you think?"

She surveyed Sirius, then the paper, moving from one to the other until she had decided, "Well he's arrogant, charming, very handsome, rude, and extremely cunning. And he cheers for Slytherin when he thinks I'm too far away to hear him." Padfoot frowned.

"Yes or no?" Remus asked.

"Well... yes."

"Yes to what?" asked Sirius impatiently, trying to move the broom.

"She's agreed to go with me to the Seventh-Year Formal Ball," said Remus, smiling at Rosaline.

"...She _what?_"

"Is your arrogance affecting your hearing?" Rosaline said, "I'm going with Remus to the Ball."

"But... what about me?"

"Oh, you have every single witch in the castle chasing after _you_, it's just a matter of choosing one. What color are your dress robes, Remus?" They talked together in hushed tones, leaving Padfoot alone.

Sirius looked very pathetic and crestfallen, and Remus' broom finally began to cooperate. He hovered for a while, then began to descend, dismounting when he was close enough to the ground. "Remus, give me my broom back, please."

"He's using manners," Rosaline whispered. "What's wrong with him? Look at him- he's Padfoot again. Under that tree there- see him?"

"I just wanted to settle his pride a bit," said Remus. "for when he takes you to the Formal Ball."

"But–"

"The night of the Seventh-Year Formal Ball is a full moon," Moony said, looking straight into her eyes. "I can't go. Not even if I want to. I want you to go with Sirius."

"Moony... Please."

"Just go! I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?"

"I'll even attack Snivellus for you."

She beamed, "So we're still friends?"

"When haven't we been? Go on, love. Before he gets more pathetic."

Rosaline kissed him happily, making her way down to Sirius. "Remus and I have decided that you may want this back." She let the parchment fall near his front paws. He was human soon, and then he picked it up, unfolding it. Harry stood behind Sirius so that he could read the note.

_Sirius is absolutely mad for you, but being an egotistical bastard is a full-time occupation. If he spoke his mind, he'd most likely ask you to the Seventh-Year Formal Ball. But since the git isn't going to give up his pride any time soon, I'd like to ask you for him. What do you think? Yes or No?_

_ Remus_

Sirius stood up and stared at Rosaline, making is smile evident; then, using the moment to her own advantage, caught him completely off-guard in a kiss. Remus cheered, followed shortly by James' best wolf whistle. Harry couldn't help but grin with the utter happiness that had accumulated in the past few minutes, so great that it hung in the air like a dense fog. Lily answered them both by elbowing James to shut him up as soon as possible. "Since today is our last day to really enjoy ourselves before exams," began Lily, taking out an camera that was obviously enchanted.

"Not more pictures!" groaned Sirius, who was met with five other voices yelling at him to shut his mouth.

The camera floated several feet in front of them, focusing and setting its timer. Harry saw his vision blur, then with the flash, he sat straight up at the same desk he had been in before. Remus retrieved his memory and stood beside Tamora again.

Harry looked across the room, standing shakily. He walked over to Remus' desk and examined the photograph. It was the same. Smiling, laughing, waving up at him in pure joy. Then he focused on Sirius and Rosaline, and Peter at the opposite end of the picture. Peter had told Voldemort where his parents were, killed Rosaline, and framed Sirius, and still been left to roam throughout the country while Sirius was being stripped of his most happy memories. Now he knew; he knew why Tamora wanted to kill Peter and Bellatrix. Now he knew the rage that Tamora felt, that such loss had caused. If she wished to kill them, she would not face them alone.

"Thanks, Remus," Harry said distantly, "I have to go back and see Ron and Hermione now. I'll talk with you later in the week."

"There's one more, Harry," said Tamora.

"Tamora- I don't think that's–" began Remus.

"Moony, please. I want him to know."

Remus held the tip of his wand to his temple again, extracting another memory to place into the pensieve. "I don't suggest this... it's too soon. After what I saw on that field I don't want to catch you running after Bellatrix or Peter, or you'll have much more to deal with than Voldemort."

Harry gazed into the pensieve, instantly feeling a rush of cool air, then just as suddenly as the wind burst in his face, warmth tingled in his limbs. He was in Sirius' home; he could recognize it before he even saw it: the certain smell, the feel. He heard the crying of a baby, and soft-spoken words.

"Sh-sh-shhh... Daddy and Mummy will be back soon, my dear. They've only gone for a walk."

"Moony Moony!" the baby giggled.

"Yes, that's right. Moony's here to take care of you." Remus smiled lovingly at the tiny child.

"Tama and Moony!" she babbled in a sweet sing-song voice. "Tama and Moony!"

He suddenly felt a chill, and he ran to the door frantically, holding Tamora in his arms, though he didn't quite understand why. He felt danger, he could sense it when the full moon drew near ever since he became a werewolf. It was strong, almost enough to make him panic. He saw Sirius just leaving a small café with Tamora and Peter at opposite ends of a crowd of Muggles, Peter with his wand raised. Remus' stomach gave a sickening lurch as he hastened down the street, whispering to Tamora, "It'll be all right. Hold on to Moony now." The child clasped the excess fabric in her little hands, turning her face to the crowd to see where they were headed. "Sirius!" Remus shouted, calling his attention to Wormtail. Sirius ran out of the doorway, his wand raised.

"_ADVADA KEDARVA!_" Remus heard someone bellow, a flash of green light penetrating the small crowd of people. He held Tamora's head toward his chest, shielding her with his arms.

"NO!" he heard Padfoot yell desperately over the mass chaos. The screams were the most terrifying thing Remus had ever heard in his life. Then, the screaming stopped, leaving silence even more horrific than the screams. Mist covered the square entirely from the strength of the spell. Remus waved his hand in front of his face, holding Tamora close.

He heard weeping, and now he could see the reason. Around a dozen muggles lay dead on the ground, along with one other. One witch...

"No, Rosaline..." he heard Sirius' voice echo. "It'll all be better..." He was sitting on the ground, rocking her limp body in his arms. Tears streamed from his face in devastating sorrow.

Remus couldn't utter a word or look on any other sight than that of Sirius, his best friend, crouched over the body of his dead wife, his own dear friend... As for Peter, he was nowhere to be found. Rage forced Remus' blood to boil, and overwhelming grief brought him to his knees, holding Tamora close and sobbing, looking at Sirius with bloodshot eyes. Sirens wailed in the distance. The Muggle police would soon be here. Sirius' wand was still gripped tightly in his hand, and now he stood, calling aloud. "WORMTAIL! DO YOU SEE WHAT YOU'VE DONE?! DO YOU SEE HER, PETER?!" Remus was sure he'd gone mad with guilt and sadness, standing up and trying to calm him. His eyes had were lackluster and unfocused. His boyish charm and reckless enthusiasm, his liveliness... All Remus had known and loved about him since they met on the train the first year at Hogwarts... now ripped from his body in mere seconds. Remus put his hand on his best friend's shoulder, wiping tears from his own face and Sirius'. "Come with me inside. Peter's gone... Bring Rosaline." Remus wiped more tears from his eyes.

"What's happened?" said a few wizards from outside of their shops. "_Why, it's Sirius Black! He's killed all these Muggles!_" said a witch on the corner, her hand to her mouth agape. "Sirius killed them! And Peter Pettigrew!" "_Dear, sweet Peter! Now he's dead! DEAD! Look here, only a finger left!_" Each of the people in the square began to murmur excitedly, angrily, ready to single out Sirius. "Sirius is a murderer!" some cried, others, "Poor Peter!" and still others demanded justice.

An authority figure from the Ministry of Magic apparated to the street corner where an old witch stood. "What has happened here?!"

"Sirius Black killed Peter Pettigrew and those muggles!" she said, pointing at Sirius accusingly. "Thank you, Madam. We'll take it from here. Quick, over there," ordered the wizard from the Ministry to the guards, "Arrest that man. Arrest Sirius Black!"

A small group, much like Muggle officers, ran towards him, but instead they were armed with wands. "Release your wand. Sirius Black, you are henceforth accused of the murder of Peter Pettigrew and the Muggles identified as Bridget Wilkinson, Jacob Cambric..." The list went on; Harry counted exactly thirteen, twelve muggles and a wizard, as had been reported in the Daily Prophet many times before. What he didn't understand was the absence of Rosaline from the count. He looked behind him to find a witch apparating with Rosaline's body, though no one seemed to notice.

"Officer, he's innocent!" Moony reasoned.

"There are over twenty witnesses. What makes you think that we'll take your word over theirs?"

"I killed no one, release me! IT WAS PETER PETTIGREW!" Sirius growled as they held him back by his arms, handcuffing him. They took his wand from his clenched fist forcefully and pulled him away. His animalistic shouts and threats were not aiding the situation, in fact, the officers were more inclined to hurt him. All of the people from the Ministry apparated, taking Sirius with them. A single wizard stayed behind, modifying the minds of every Muggle in the vicinity. Remus stood over the body of Rosaline, cradling Tamora who was soon to fall asleep. She gurgled, nuzzling his sweater affectionately.

Remus dried his tears a third time (but not for the last time, he was certain) and sat on the ground, holding Rosaline's frozen hand. Harry felt the same rush of cold air, and he pulled his head up, tears flowing down his face, dripping from his chin. Remus had been affected, too- he could tell that it was still excruciating pain to remember. "You were right, Remus- I'll kill Peter at any chance I get."

"And I won't stop you," said Remus, "I lied." He wiped his eyes with his hand. "Fifteen years, Harry- and look at me. I still can't control my own tears when I think about her. A piece of us died with her, a piece of Padfoot and myself. Peter ripped out our hearts and left you and Tamora without parents._ That_ is why I won't stop you. But I won't let you fight him- _them_, alone."

It was cold and dark when Harry awoke the next morning, he pulled the covers up over his shoulders, trying to grasp what warmth was left in his body. "Wake up, Harry!" Ron said, shoving him. He grasped the covers in alarm, trying to stay on the mattress. "I'm awake, I'm awake," Harry groaned, yawning loudly. He reached for his Quidditch robes absentmindedly, pulling Hedwig's empty cage onto the floor. Ron handed him his robes.

"Thanks. Oh, no."

"What?" asked Ron, "Missing a glove?"

"No, Tamora's playing against us today, and I promised McGonagall that I wouldn't try to help her. I don't know if I can keep that promise..."

"Don't worry, Harry," Ron said, tossing his boots towards him. "It's not like Draco's going to hurt someone on his own team. He may put a few dents in _you_, though."

Harry pulled his boots and dragon hide gloves on, picking up his Firebolt. "I heard Draco has a new kind of Firebolt."

"Yeah. A Blaze. He offered Tamora one for free. I think he fancies her."

"You _think?_" Harry was amazed that Ron hadn't assumed that from the start. "He's been trying to win her over from the first time he saw her, Ron. Please don't tell me this is the first time you ever thought that."

The answer was yes, judging by his sudden change of topic. "We have to go. The game starts in fifteen minutes. Angelina's probably going to start her pep talk soon." On the way to the field, Ron brought up Draco and Tamora again. "...Of course, she doesn't really like him at all, does she?"

"No," said Harry matter-of-factly, "she loathes him. She wouldn't ever think of him as anything but a nuisance."

"Attention," said Angelina Johnson, "I am _still_ team captain, so either answer to me, or answer to McGonagall in detention. It's your choice, lady and gentlemen. First I'll state the facts: Slytherin has better brooms, better gear, and one more player than we do. But we have something they don't have- talent." A few players laughed.

"We're missing someone?" asked Harry.

Angelina nodded solemnly, "We haven't got a Keeper, so Alicia's filling in. We'll be missing a Chaser for the entire game. But rough play's never stopped us before, has it, Potter? Okay, everyone! Let's go out there and beat those Slytherins into the ground!" Angelina took Harry aside as the other players filed onto the field. "Watch out for Malfoy this year, Harry. He's been getting better at injuring other players, and his skills have improved. He's _almost_ a worthy opponent now." Harry continued onto the field, taking flight.

"AND NOW, INTRODUCING THE SUPERIOR GRYFFINDOR QUIDDITCH TEAM!" Lee Jordan yelled into the purple microphone until McGonagall tried to pull it from his hands. "With returning Quidditch captain, Angelina Johnson, who is wearing a very tight uniform today–" "_ Jordan!_" boomed McGonagall's voice.

"Sorry Professor. And here comes Harry Potter, the ever-popular Seeker of the Gryffindor Quidditch team!" Cheers could be heard from the Gryffindor stands. Each player was poised in his or her position, and the tension was building between the two teams by the second. Madam Hooch spoke loudly, "I can't stress the importance of sportsmanship enough between you. But, we all know that never works out. At the end of every game we find either Potter or Malfoy collapsed in the grass, so I'll make this short." She blew the whistle, throwing the Quaffle into the air. "The Quaffle has been released!" announced Lee Jordan. "Johnson has the Quaffle- wait! Crabbe knocks the Bludger in her path- near miss, Angelina! And the Quaffle's been passed to Johnson again! She's preparing to shoot–"

Harry kept a sharp eye out for the Snitch, but half a watch on Tamora as she successfully blocked a goal.

"Tamora Black has blocked the Quaffle!" The Snitch whizzed underneath Harry's broom, heading towards the Slytherin stands. He dove towards it, opening his outstretched hand. "Get out of the way, Potter!" Draco yelled, closing in on him.

"Get used to losing, Malfoy!"

Lee Jordan brought everyone's attention to the two Seekers, "And it seems the Snitch appeared early in the game! Look at them go! Get out of there, Malfoy you stupid b–"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, sorry... BELL HAS THE QUAFFLE! She shoots! Another block by Tamora Black! Someone ought to knock that girl off her broom and score a goal!"

"Jordan, that is enough!"

Lee put the megaphone to his mouth again, "Montague passes to Warrington- GET 'IM, GIRLS! He's going to shoot- Alicia looks nervous. BLOODY H–" After a brief moment of struggling for the megaphone with McGonagall, he tore it out of her hands, muttering angrily, "Slytherin scores... BUT HERE COMES ANGELINA- pass to Bell, then back to Angelina- this is madness! They're making to shoot- OH! A bludger nearly knocks Bell off her broom— she drops the Quaffle, Warrington has the Quaffle–"

Harry soared upward, then dove sharply for the Snitch, weaving in and out of the pillars of the stands. Draco followed him closely, Crabbe and Goyle hitting Bludgers at Harry the entire time. "Having fun, Potter?!" Malfoy yelled to him. Harry felt the rush of air as a Bludger passed his head, ruffling his hair. He had no time to add a retort now, the Snitch was very close. He careened downward, then up into the air again past the hoops. A Bludger was coming up from behind him swiftly, aimed directly at his head. Draco smirked, picking up speed.

Tamora caught sight of the Bludger and abandoned her post, taking Crabbe's club and smashing the Bludger away from Harry's head with a loud crack. Harry looked behind him soon enough to see the Bludger sailing away towards Malfoy. Draco swung upside-down on his broom to dodge it, giving Harry time to tail the Snitch.

Lee's voice filled the stadium, "—It seems Montague's going to make another goal- what's this?— HARRY POTTER HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH! GRYFFINDOR WINS ONE HUNDRED FIFTY TO FOURTY!"

Madam Hooch blew the whistle.

"Fastest bloody game in the history of Quidditch..." Jordan added, not realizing he was still talking into the megaphone.

Each member of the Slytherin Quidditch team glared disapprovingly at Tamora for the rest of the day, and avoided her in the halls. On the other hand, she had found many new loyal friends in Gryffindor...

Malfoy finally confronted Tamora on the way to Divination. "Why did you have to save Potter's ass out there? You could've gotten him killed and we've

won the match by default!"

"To some people, Draco, other human lives hold value. I don't think you've ever heard of friendship; it's not listed in the books of Dark Magic, after all."

Draco bit his lower lip, hiding a smile, "There's also pride and victory. Sticking up for Potter and Weasley is more charity than friendship, don't you think?"

"I do think, but it seems_ you_ need to more often before you speak. You end up sounding like a complete and total ass." Tamora looked away from him to wave at Hermione.

Draco nodded, "Granger." Hermione decided to acknowledge his presence with a glance.

"Malfoy."

"What's Trelawney teaching today?" Tamora asked.

"Who knows," said Hermione irritably, glancing at her watch. "Probably something to do with death, black dogs, or..." Hermione did her best imitation of Trelawney, waving her arms dramatically and bulging out her eyes. "..._the unknown!_" Tamora laughed riotously, tying her green and silver scarf around her head. "_...Good day, class. Miss Brown, is Mr. Potter dead yet? Wonderful! Oh, class- we will be reading eachothers' tongues today- white film on the tongue can predict the future. The omniscience of the great beyond has spoken! I myself will die... tomorrow!_" Tamora and Hermione laughed irrepressibly; '_UNKNOWN!_' echoed loudly in the halls, causing quite a stir. Trelawney stood at the ladder today, catching sight of their obvious impersonations of her.

"Good day, Miss Granger; Miss Black. How _lovely_ to see you both," she said stiffly. "Follow me up the ladder now."

They stifled their inane giggling, following her up the ladder to her classroom. "Today I would like to focus my psychic energies upon your fate, Miss Black. I am terribly worried about your previous existence."

"...Right. As am I..." Tamora said quizzically. Only then did the three notice that the classroom was entirely empty.

"Have a seat, Miss Black; Mr. Malfoy."

Hermione didn't wait for her order to be seated; Trelawney hadn't taken lightly her choice to leave in her third year. Trelawney closed the trap door, sliding a wooden lock in place.

The usual mystic voice was no longer heard, and she seemed much more serious. "Quite a facade, isn't it?" she said, taking out a bowl that was quite like a pensieve, but gold with a small crystal base. It took a moment for the realization, but her voice was different. In fact, her voice was quite different, a younger sound... lighter.

"...I know Trelawney's voice, even without the load of cack she says and the ridiculous arm-waving. And you're not her," said Draco. She glanced up at Draco for only a moment, then walked to an empty table and picked up a crystal ball. They all jumped in alarm when she slammed it against the inside of the bowl, strange cloudy liquid pouring out.

Tamora nodded in agreement, "Take off your glasses, won't you, Professor?"

A wide smile appeared on her face, seemingly lighting up the room. "I knew you would guess. None of the other students caught on."

She removed her glasses and her headband, a sweet heart-shaped face finally revealed.

Hermione took a step backwards, watching loud purple spikes of hair overcome the usual poof of dirty-blonde. "I don't know if I've properly introduced myself, Hermione. I may just be forgetful. I'm Nymphadora. But I'd much rather you called me Tonks."

"Yes of course!" said Hermione gleefully, "But why are you dressed as Trelawney?"

"You have no idea how annoying it is to use that bloody voice all day!" Tonks fumed, "And those clothes! Did you know that this classroom _wreaks_ of incense?! (she changed her mood temporarily) Well, that's beside the point. The Order sent me here."

"For what?"

She teased Tamora, "What, you're not glad I'm here?"

"Of course I am! But what do they have to say?" Tamora pleaded, "I have to know what's happening here."

"What do you think I'm doing?" Tonks asked her, swirling the foggy liquid around with the opposite end of her wand. "I know, misuse of my wand... stand back a bit." Tonks cleared everyone out of range of the large bowl.

"_Ignis conspecta!_" The edges of the bowl burst into flame, the liquid bubbling within the bowl.

"TONKS?! WHAT IS THIS?!" Tamora exclaimed.

"You'll find out... if I've done this correctly!" Tonks yelled, sound near muted in the room.

"AND IF NOT?!"

"...The hospital wing's still open, right?!"

"What in bloody hell is that supposed to mean?!" Draco bellowed.

"Shut up and hold on!" said Tonks, forcing his hands into the flames. It didn't burn his hands, but it wasn't quite pleasant, either. The feeling was an annoying numbness, much like the sensation when one's hand falls asleep. Light shot out of the ridges of the bowl, making it nearly impossible for them to keep their eyes open. Tamora squinted, feeling a sudden rush much like flying. Her stomach gave a jolt, and she saw to her own amazement that they were at least thirty feet above the train tracks for the Hogwarts Express, moving towards the Muggle world. Then, they were pushed forward again, hanging onto the blazing rim for dear life.

"TONKS!!!" Tamora yelled, the almost muted surroundings feeling abnormal and frightening. "WHERE ARE WE?!"

The street flashed into view. Tonks grinned, enjoying the rush, "Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Welcome home, Tamora."

"But...we're floating!" she yelled, "How are we going to get in?"

White light surrounded. They charged forth, heading straight through the wall. They were suspended in mid-air, surrounded by light. Moody was pacing the room, his blue glassy eye whirling around in its socket. It rolled back into his head, and he turned around. "I was expecting you. Is Potter there? Oh, right. You can't answer, can ye?" He chuckled, pacing, his footfalls thudding heavily on the wooden floor. "Well, Tamora- I suppose you didn't expect to see me. Tell Remus I've found a new, method, should I say?- to help him through the end of next month.

"We've seen Pettigrew. He was last in the London Underground, but we lost him. That's why I had to talk to ye, Tamora. Tonks has to stay there for a while just in case Peter's lookin' for revenge. He's known to be a bit daft now that he's in his more likable form. Hope that red-headed disaster's not still lookin' for him." Hermione smiled at mention of Ron.

"If you do come across Peter, forget the fancy spells and take off one of your shoes." To see Moody wink was an bizarre thing, because the bright blue eye still spun around while the other was closed. "I'll be seeing all of you before the end of the year, especially you." He pointed in the direction of Malfoy. "Remus told me _all _about Crouch turnin' you into a ferret. Bet you made a very nice one, too. I'll do it m'self- if you get in my way. Take care of Tamora. Don't make me keep ye as a pet." They could hear Draco swallow hard, and Moody nodded as though he knew for certain that poor Draco was petrified. Hermione suppressed a laugh, Tamora elbowing her (which only caused her to laugh louder in the long run).

"That's all. Tonks- don't destroy anything please. Or trip. Or decapitate any students. Trelawney's only going to be gone for a day."

They felt a much greater force pulling them backwards at an alarming rate, stopping abruptly. They were flung onto the floor behind the bowl, and the liquid turned to dust.

"And that," said Tonks, sifting some of the contents of the bowl through her fingers, "is floo powder." Once they had collected themselves, Tamora was first to speak.

"What... was that?"

"It has no real name, so we simply called it by the name of the spell."

"I prefer to call it a crystal ball that works," Tamora jested.

Tonks smiled, "Whatever you decide to call it, don't tell anyone about it, unless you want us to get into quite a bit of trouble."

"What's the matter, Malfoy? Still worried you'll wake up a ferret one day?" Hermione grinned, savoring the look of terror he wore. "Think of it as a step up from disgusting slime with blonde hair. And no Quidditch skills to speak of, I might add."

"You would think that, wouldn't you, Granger? But I'll always be far superior to you, you filthy little mudbl–"

"Don't you ever tire of saying that?" She asked.

"Off to your next class, all of you," said Tonks. "I'd rather you stayed here, but McGonagall will throw a fit if I don't force you to leave."

"Bye, Tonks." said Tamora. "I'll tell Harry you said hello."

"I'll tell him myself. He's in my last class of the day," said Tonks, reading from a roster.

Tamora hugged her before she, Hermione, and Draco left. "Wonder what he has for Moony. Something to help with the moon cycles, but what?"

Neither Hermione nor Draco answered, but still shot nasty looks at eachother behind Tamora's back.

"Oh, you two," she laughed, "stop it. People will think you're lovebirds."

They shared one common bond at least, they were now both very angry with Tamora.

"Don't ever say that again." Hermione looked around to see if there was anyone about.

Malfoy added, "Especially in public. I mean, someone might have heard that. I can't afford to ruin my reputation."

"What reputation," Hermione muttered. It was more fact than question.

"Shut your ignorant mouth, Granger," Draco hissed.

Hermione was on the brink of combustion when Tamora pointed out Harry. Harry's face held a bemused expression at the sight of the three of them walking down the hall... together. "Where did you come from?"

"Ton–... Trelawney's lesson," answered Tamora briefly.

Harry shook his head, "No. Where were you really?"

"I'll explain later."

"Why are they staring at eachother?" Harry whispered to Tamora.

"Let's see..." she said sarcastically. "They hate eachother, they're forced to sit at the same table to speak to me at the same time, and I just made a joke about them being lovebirds. I don't know. Any ideas?"

Harry smiled grimly, "When haven't they hated eachother? It's amazing that they can _sit_ without arguing."

"That sounds familiar," said Tamora, "since it's the exact same way with the two house pets." She insinuated about the night of Halloween.

"No," he answered, "This goes much deeper. Malfoy started this."

"Did not."

"We're whispering for a reason, Draco!" said Tamora. "Go on, Harry. How did this all begin- the war against Draco?"

"Well, it all started in Madam Malkin's actually, before I even met Ron and Hermione..."

The rest of the afternoon was spent telling horror stories of Malfoy and their past of hatred. Tamora was shocked beyond all reckoning by the time they were ordered to return to their common rooms. Draco had long since left them, and by now, no one cared where he had gone to. Harry checked his watch, "Well, it's a quarter after eleven. We'd ought to be going."

"I don't think I'll ever speak to that miserable coward ever again," said Tamora.

"Don't be _that _hard on him. Put some effort into it- you can hate him more than that," said Hermione smartly. "Give his face a good smack every day. He's earned it."

"That I will do," said Tamora, walking to the dark, murky entrance to the dungeons. "Goodnight, Ron; Hermione; _Prongs_." Harry's head snapped up, staring at her. "What?"

"Prongs. You have to continue the tradition; you know that, don't you?"

"You're right. I suppose... I suppose I do." Harry had thought of it many times when he was alone on sleepless nights, or simply when he could no longer pay attention in Trelawney's class. It was the best thing to take his mind off of the dramatic turn of events of late. He was Prongs. It was a comfort and a constant reminder of the Marauders, and then... there was Snape. As suddenly as he had thought of Snape's name and the pensieve, he wondered again how they had begun to hate him. How had they come to hate Snape?

"Well it's a long story. I'll tell you tomorrow," said Tamora. "It was a lot like how you hated Draco, but much more simplistic and childish."

"...Are you psychic?" said Harry incredulously.

"No, but I do have excellent hearing. You muttered it only a moment ago," said Tamora with a wink. She looked behind her quickly, letting out a shriek and falling against the wall.

"Hello, Tamora," said Malfoy cheekily, "how nice of you to return to your dormitories before midnight. You three are out of bed, though. I may have to deduct house points unless you leave us alone... _together_." He emphasized 'together' for reasons Harry didn't want to guess.

"_Please,_ Draco.. You're a prefect, you're a horrible Quidditch player, and you can't stand anyone who's better than you. You should _hate me_ by now. I have everything you lack." She walked past him triumphantly. "Good night. I'll see you all tomorrow."

They all turned away from Draco, and once they did, Hermione giggled. "The one he wants is the only one out of the entire school he can't have. I almost feel bad for him."

"Almost?" said Ron.

"Wait," Hermione pretended to ponder this, "...No. I don't."

Harry watched Malfoy lean against the wall outside of the doorway to the dungeons. He seemed like he was terribly... lonely? Harry defied his own thoughts. Draco was lonely. Maybe that was his problem. Maybe Ron was right. Tamora _was_ his option for the Sixth-Year Formal Ball. Malfoy didn't want the other hoards of girls. He just wanted... her. The thought only lingered in his mind for a moment or two until Ron spoke.

"What d'you think Malfoy's doing, trying to get Tamora alone with him? The nerve! I'm going to hex him at the last game of the season."

"Defending your _love?_" Hermione snarled.

"Shut up, barn owl."

"Toad!"

"Bookworm!"

"Oaf!"

"Showoff!"

Harry closed his mind whilst they walked through the entrance hall, hearing words shouted, but not caring to find out what exactly the words were. If this continued the entire year, Harry may be able to keep up on his studies instead of talking to them... That was a nightmare in itself. Studies? Maybe he could talk to Tamora more often as they fought more often.

He began to feel embarrassed by their incessant yelling, bickering up and down the halls about frivolous things. It was unnerving. As the volume grew, he turned his ears back to their conversation, his mind following shortly after.

"Prude!"

"Ugly, freckle-faced–"

"Buck-toothed, bushy-haired–"

"You're a horrible Quidditch player!"

"You're horrible at everything that doesn't have to do with books!"

_Complete sentences, it must be getting worse,_ thought Harry with an internal groan. Maybe it wasn't worth taking the time to listen to. Then again...

"BEFORE THAT MONEY CAME IN, YOU COULDN'T EVEN AFFORD NEW DRESS ROBES!"

"BEFORE HARRY AND I CAME ALONG, YOU DIDN'T EVEN HAVE FRIENDS!"

"I HATE YOU!"

"I HATE YOU MORE!" roared Ron childishly, ending their fight, for now...

Both stomped off in opposite directions, leaving Harry to walk by himself to the common room. His bed seemed unusually inviting today, but he waited for Ron to arrive none-the-less. It was two o'clock before he stormed into the dormitories and plopping into his bed with a huff.

"Night, Harry," he said rigidly.

...But Harry had just fallen asleep.

_A/N: I come back to you now at the turn of the tide. I'VE BEEN OFF FROM SCHOOL SINCE JUNE 16TH! WoOt WoOt! Oh, and I completely forgot to create the spell the first time I posted this. I feel stupid now, because I left in place of the spell "(insert spell here)". Ah well. It's there now, if you have noticed. All right, to answer the reviews._

_Ouroboros Vipertooth- Very interesting. I did notice that almost all of the spells are of latin roots. Feraverto. Hm, true, true. I looked up its use in the book__, and, another animal (I've forgotten, but I recall it being mentioned) was turned into a pincushion (obviously not crystal; this baffles me). How very odd... THANK YOU! I'm always up for advice and comments. If you find anything else about the spells from the series, please let me know._

_BlackBlaze- Also a very intriguing point. I had not found that in the book, though I'm assuming that you did by your review. I'd really like to know where {blanks}... I must have missed it completely. Thank you very much. Coincidentally (or maybe it was fate- FAAAAATE! Bwahahahaaaa), I had already written in a part where Sirius pleaded with Dumbledore to transfer him to Gryffindor because he didn't belong in Slytherin, and Dumbledore granted his request. Well, it's in this chapter and it's in another chapter farther down the road._

_Ps: No, really. I'd like to know where... I've searched every book and I must be blind... {spaces out} I think it's the lack of school._

_Aimee Damita- Yes, I realized that while proofreading today. I have unintentionally combined too many sentences, making my story a tad confusing. Thanks._

_I'm writing to Lady Rumbottom because she's been reading every single chapter since it began, and I just wanted to say... YOU'VE GOT TO FIGHT, FOR YOUR RIGHT, TO PAAARRRRLLLLLEEEEYYYY! Keep on writing!_

_In celebration of crossing over the fifty-page line in this chapter, I'd like to give to all the readers a few wonderful desktop backgrounds from a truly exceptional Sirius fan one was quite this is a very excellent site called Immeritus, all about Sirius and some about Marauders. I recommend this site to all die-hard Sirius fans such as myself. And now, as part of the Ceremony of Fifty (laughs at 'Giver' novel reference; no one else laughs), I leave you with a few quotes to think on during the summer:_

_"Elvis isn't dead, he just went home." -Tommy Lee Jones, Men In Black_

_"E to the Vizzo, I to the Lizzo." -Dr. Evil, Goldmember._

_"This parrot is no more! It has ceased to be!" -John Cleese, Monty Python's Flying Circus_

_"The spark of his life is smothered in shite. _

_ His sprit is gone but his stench remains." -Roland, A Knight's Tale_

_"We'd be a lot better off if instead of this whole war thing, we simply challenged al Qaeda to send their four best pro wrestlers to fight against three of our pro wrestlers and Leonardo DiCaprio. Not only would we quickly resolve this conflict, we'd get to see Leo beaten with a folding chair." -James Floyd_

_"Quickly, bring me a beaker of wine, so that I may wet my mind and say something clever." -Aristophanes, 424 B.C._


	6. Sei!

_Chapter Six_

A week had passed, and still Ron and Hermione weren't speaking to eachother. It wasn't a surprise anymore, just a burden. Harry now believed the temperature depended on the mood between Ron and Hermione, because the ground had been covered with frost since the morning after their argument. It was also the fifteenth of December, and he recalled that Remus had only been absent three days from the school so far. From what Tamora had told him, Moody must have given Remus something to ease his pain.

For Tamora, on the other hand, the _pain_ was just around the corner. Draco had been following her for days on end, asking her incessant questions. From the very first day he'd begun to trail her in the hallways, all Harry heard was 'No, leave me alone', 'Goodbye', and yells of frustration. Today was no different. Tamora had to fend off Malfoy before she sat down near Harry and Ron at the table in the Great Hall.

"Hello Harry."

Harry nodded in her direction, still worn with drowsiness.

Ron bid her good morning and sat near her, taking food from every plate he could reach. Hermione sat at the opposite end of the table near Lee and Dean, stirring her food lazily and glaring at Ron.

Tamora decided to break the tension. "I was talking to Remus before, and he's been using a type of–"

A brightly colored macaw carrying an oblong parcel flew over the tables, landing on Tamora's plate.

"What's that?" asked Ron.

"Parchment."

"No, the bird!"

Tamora giggled, "My pet."

"Your pet is a tropical bird?"

Harry grinned, "Sirius sent me a few parrots before. This was one of them, wasn't it?"

"Yes."

"What's its name?"

She paused, "Father named it Snivellus." Ron took one look at the loud-hued parrot and let out a snort, making ripples in his orange juice.

Harry smiled lightly, "Sounds like something Sirius would do."

After Harry had finished talking, Ron laughed, almost choking on his food. "Go ahead, read the note."

A piece of parchment was attached to the outside of the parcel. The writing was that of Mr. Ollivander's.

_Rosewood, 10 3/4 inches, Dragon Heartstring. _

_Unusual combination. _

_Useful for Divination, Healing, and Love charms. _

_Heartstring is especially powerful _

_for Defense spells._

_**This is the second wand issued. **_

_**Be more careful this time, Miss Black.**_

"Oh, I'm going to have to thank Remus. It's my new wand. Mine was confiscated a few days ago by Filch because I charmed Mrs. Norris to fly. She was found floating around the Hufflepuff common room after a few hours of searching. Filch told me my wand was 'accidentally snapped in two'. I've been using Remus' wand, and it's been chaos."

"You charmed Mrs. Norris? Wicked!" he said, scarfing down his food. "We've got another exam in Transfiguration today, Harry."

"Oh yeah, I almost forgot about it..."

"I have Quidditch practice this morning, boys- sorry to cut our chat short," Tamora left the table, waving goodbye. Ron waved dreamily at her, granting him a glare of death from Hermione at the other end of the table.

In Transfiguration, Harry and Ron sat stupefied at their desks. Each pair of students rose at a given time to receive their assignment, completed it (or failed it), and took a seat. After almost an hour, their names were called by Professor McGonagall.

"Potter and Weasley. You're next."

Harry was quite nervous, and Ron was obviously sharing his misgivings. They'd mutated eachother several times in their endeavors in this class, and today seemed like it would be a futile attempt to do... whatever it was she chose for them.

"Mr. Potter," she begun. McGonagall peered over the top of her glasses at the rolled parchment. "You have been assigned the following for your exam. You will be transforming Mr. Weasley into a Quaffle. This would seem quite an easy task, except that the Quaffle must also be yellow. Bright green stripes are extra credit. You may begin when you are ready." Harry had never heard of such a bizarre task. Ron? A yellow, bright green-striped Quaffle? It was difficult enough to transform him into a leather boot. Even then, the boot had clumps of defiant red hair as well as a nose protruding from its usually smooth exterior.

Harry closed his eyes, visualizing the Quaffle in his hand. He took a deep breath, and in the instant after he had murmured the spell, he opened his eyes. Upon McGonagall's desk sat a bright green-striped, yellow Quaffle... wearing a pointed witch's hat.

"Well," said Ron, looking at the Quaffle, "at least you got the spell right..."

Harry reversed the spell, returning McGonagall to her original state. "Thank you, Mr. Potter. I advise you to focus on the subject you wish to transform before you recite the spell. _Open your eyes next time, perhaps?_ Never-the-less, I will give you credit, _if _Mr. Weasley can complete your transformation correctly. You must transform Mr. Potter (completely, I might add) into a rodent of your choice. This rodent, whichever it may be, must have white feathered wings. These wings must be in the _proper place_, or I will deduct points and Mr. Potter will not receive a passing grade. You _were_ partners through this entire class, after all. Begin."

Ron blanched, muttering something about failing the course. He stood before Harry, his wand at the ready. "Well... here goes nothing, then." A small explosion occurred soon after the spell was uttered, and the students jumped back in their desks.

"Thank you, Mr. Weasley. You may be seated," said McGonagall while the classroom was still engulfed in smoke. Ron sat in his desk, fidgeting nervously, waiting to see what exactly he had turned Harry into. At first, he feared it would be an inanimate object (or several inanimate objects), toadstools and the like. At last, he caught a glimpse. The smoke cleared, and a white-winged orange sloth hovered in the air, making odd squeaking noises and thrashing its short legs about. Ron breathed a sigh of relief, allowing McGonagall to transform Harry again.

"Well done, both of you. A three-toed sloth is not in fact a rodent, Mr. Weasley, and I am _almost positive_ they are not commonly orange. _However,_ your extremely limited knowledge of animals does not alter your passing grade."

"Excellent," Harry muttered to him once they were seated. Ron smiled appreciatively, still astounded that he hadn't permanently deformed Harry or blasted him into a thousand pieces.

"May I have your attention for just a moment." All heads turned to Professor McGonagall. "Thank you. After this exam, we will begin a new chapter of Transfiguration. I would like everyone who is finished with their exam to take out a clean roll of parchment and copy down the following page numbers at the top..."

The next day, after Herbology, Ron and Harry were still displaying their relief from the day before that they hadn't failed Transfiguration, or killed anyone.

"Lupin's reviewing boggarts today," said Ron with a small grin. "Wonder who's going to have the best boggart. I bet Tamora's is Trelawney with a tea cup."

Harry shook his head doubtfully, "No. I think I know what it is..." She had told him she was weak once. Weakness... but death had ruled her life, just as it had ruled his. Maybe it was best that Harry hadn't known them... though it didn't ease the pain. He believed her boggart was... death. How would it be depicted? Would it be the memory of her mother's death? Or a wave of green light? Or would it be her own? Or worse... would it be Harry's? He shuddered, nearly tripping over the end of Ron's robes when the hall came back into focus.

"Harry! Ron!" exclaimed Tamora, running from behind them and hanging an arm over each of their shoulders. "Remus is teaching us about boggarts today."

"Yeah, that's what we were talking about. Ever seen your boggart?"

Tamora nodded, but didn't say precisely what it was. "...It changed once. But I've had a fear of one thing for several years. You never really know, do you?"

"No, I suppose not," answered Harry aloofly. Remus waved. Tamora's inhibition disappeared and she raced towards Remus, wrapping her arms around his waist and squeezing the life out of him.

"Hello Tamora," Remus said, smiling down at her.

"Is Hermione here?" she asked him.

"She told me she was going to switch classes. She was really in a rush, and she didn't explain why..."

Ron scowled, "I know why..."

"Let's go, Ron," said Tamora, changing the subject.

"Tamora," said Remus before she walked through the doorway. "I don't think this is a good idea, this boggart."

"I know what it is, and I know how to solve it. It's all right, Remus. I know how to handle death. Lord knows you do."

Remus smiled at her. "Have a seat, then. Hello, and welcome to the most interesting hour of your life. I assure you that you will never forget anything that you see or hear today. Today, we will be reviewing boggarts." Something relative to Muggle music played softly on the record player; Harry was sure he had heard Dudley blasting it through the speakers of his disk player during the summer. There was a driving beat behind it, and some sort of guitar.

"All right, Ron. Wand at the ready." The boggart scurried out, with the body of a spider and the head of his mother, screaming at him and crawling towards him. "RONALD! YOU'VE GOTTEN INTO TROUBLE _AGAIN?!_ WHAT IS IT THIS TIME- DID YOU GET GINNY IN ANY TROUBLE?! IF YOU DID, SO HELP ME I'LL–"

"_Riddikulus!_" Ron barked, shooting his mother's mouth clean off of her face, the legs of the spider contracting and becoming internalized.

"Good!" said Remus, "Next!"

One by one, each approached their fear, some were common, some were not. Dean Thomas was in their class, and his boggart had been a particularly nasty poodle named Buttons.

"_Riddikulus!_" said Dean, and Buttons' hair fell off onto the floor and he was chased away by a black and white great dane. "My cousin's poodle nearly took off my finger this summer," he explained, stepping out of the line. Tamora stood before the closet, waiting for the boggart inside to be released. "Are you very sure?" Remus asked for the last time. She was. Death was an obstacle no longer. She was prepared. There was no reason to fear it. Then, she felt her stomach turn over. If she was prepared, than she didn't fear it. If death wasn't her worst fear anymore, then...

Remus unlocked the closet door and took a step back. There was a long silence before the boggart appeared. Slender fingers reached out to grab the door, opening it slightly. Tamora flinched, knowing exactly what it... he... was. A dark-robed, blond-haired nightmare wearing a smirk stepped into the room. "Hello Tamora," said Draco softly, approaching her with a confident stride. She stepped backward, and with each step she took he advanced, until eventually she had no where to go and leaned backwards on a desk. Harry and Ron were both astounded that she hadn't destroyed him yet. In fact, Remus seemed the most interested, waiting for her to stop him. Draco was pressed up against her completely and about to touch her hair when she finally pushed him away and yelled, "_Riddikulus!_"

Instantly Draco was clothed in what was apparently was extremely pink Muggle lingerie. Even Remus had to stifle a chuckle when Malfoy yelled out loud and cursed, trying to cover whatever he could with his arms and hands. Remus sighed and reluctantly sent the boggart back into its closet. "Very good... Tamora. I'd also like to speak with you after class." A few students jeered her, others applauded when she took her seat at the back of the class.

Justin sneered at her. "Your greatest fear is a coward like Malfoy? You don't have anything more terrifying than that git in your life? You're too sheltered, then."

"If I didn't have more class than you, I would have put the Cruciatus curse on you so fast it would properly decapitate Sir Nicholas." Remus picked up on the conversation and had caught her remark, taken aback.

Once class was dismissed, Remus called to her. "Tamora, please remain seated." The class filed out of the door, though Harry stayed behind a few more minutes, hanging in the doorway.

"Who is this blonde young man you're so afraid of?" she didn't answer, but instead wrung her fingers nervously. "Oh dear- was that Malfoy's son?"

"It's nothing. He's just a little too proud, and I have nothing else to fear."

"Oh really?" said Remus doubtfully. "How about death, danger, Voldemort?"

Tamora scoffed, "Voldemort, please. I'll never see that power-hungry fool as long as I live. You're really reading far too much into this."

"All I'm reading into this is my little girl is threatened by some boy at school. He must be someone powerful."

"Not at all. And I'm not little."

"That's not the point."

She looked upon him questioningly, "Then what is?"

"The point," said Remus, "is that you shouldn't be afraid of someone who is inferior to you."

"I know..." she left the room, "but what if he isn't all that inferior?"

"Tamora, come back here." ordered Remus.

"I'm going to be late for class. Bye, Moony."

Remus waved, "Bye, love. Have... fun." As soon as she had walked down the hall, Remus motioned to Harry. "Don't let her alone with that boy." Harry nodded, making his way to Divination. This was one of the only classes in which Harry was truly alone and confused. The only people he recognized were Millicent Bullstrode and Seamus, and neither could help concerning Trelawney. She'd predicted death in his family at least four times since the start of term, as well as famine in a small third-world country because Pluto was in the second house.

"Welcome, welcome. Please begin to read your partner's palm using the chart on your table. I will return to see what you have discovered about the person across from you and their fate. Please, everyone, take your seats and begin! Your partner's life may hang in the very delicate balance of the unknown!"

"What a load of–" began Seamus, but Trelawney floated by his desk dreamily to the back of the classroom. She fumbled with some charts and astrological mobiles, paying no attention to the class, which was paying no attention to her instructions. Harry began the palm reading by scribbling some complete nonsense in the language of the 'unknown', which quite basically meant that someone would take ill or die in the near future.

"Mr. Potter, very interesting- I also see the plague running in Mr. Finnigan's family."

"Erm, Professor, the plague isn't hereditary–"

"And Mr. Finnigan! Very, very good! I can see the resemblance to Harry's great grandfather. You are correct, he _will_ soon have quite a nasty case of boils, because Mercury is in the seventh house. Excellent, both of you! You've very much improved over the past... three years, is it?" They both nodded carelessly as she moved onto the next pair.

"What's all this with Hermione changing her classes?" Seamus asked. "She used to be in my Charms class, and now she's gone! Ron won't tell me anything about it."

Harry didn't quite know what to say. "Well, Ron and Hermione have been fighting, and... well... it's difficult to understand. They've just been getting on eachother's nerves for the past _five years_... So, what _did_ you write about my palm, then?" he implored.

"I wish I knew," Seamus kidded. "Have you ever really answered a question in this class because you understood what was going on?"

"Who do you take me for, Lavender?"

"She sure likes to pucker up to Trelawney's–"

"Continue with crystal ball reading, there will be an essay due by next Friday. You must write a minimum of thirty lines on the moons of Jupiter and their effect on the weather!"

When they descended the ladder from Trelawney's classroom, Harry heard a pungent remark from behind him.

"–and Potter's clinging to her so much, you'd think they were siamese twins. I don't think he has any friends except for Weasley and _Granger._ He has to prey off of Tamora's mercy to gain popularity. So much for the famous Harry Potter." He heard the exceedingly oafish laughs of Crabbe and Goyle, though the two lummoxes hadn't understood a word he had spoken..

"I wouldn't talk about people who _cling_ to Tamora if I were you, Malfoy," he answered coolly. "And _I_ don't carry two human walls around to protect myself from a fight."

Harry was correct. Goyle would have been a tree excluding the fact that he was now much larger around as well. He wouldn't exactly camouflage the wall due to the rather large acne on his face and neck. Crabbe had not become a great deal taller, but he had become stockier, and in his black robes could easily be mistaken for any given wall outside of the school.

"I won't waste your time. You've probably got to go _kiss Dumbledore's ass _some more on the way to the Great Hall."

"That's the best you could do? Why don't you go call Hermione a Mudblood again. I'd love to see her beat the life out of you at least one more time before Christmas."

Draco raised his eyebrows in mock interest. "I'd really like to see her try. Her and Weasley. Won the lottery a year or two ago, didn't he? I bet he'd never seen so much money in his life. Bet he didn't even _know_ what a galleon was till now."

"I bet his father wasn't running mad somewhere, killing Muggles like a deranged dog. Where is your father now, Malfoy? Does the Ministry even care? Or have they already erased his files and forgotten all about the rich, influential Malfoy family? Have they?"

Draco raised his wand, preparing to duel. "At least I _have_ a father, Potter! At least both of my parents were pure-blood, not some Mudblood half-wits who got themselves killed! You're almost a half-blood, aren't you, Potter? Mother wasn't a pure-blood, was she? No, I didn't think so. Just some filthy, worthless garbage–"

WHAM. Malfoy's remarks were met with a fist in his face, as well as a charm soon to follow. Malfoy fell flat on his back, wiping blood from his lip. No sooner than he had risen, he was prepared to defend himself. Harry felt a blow strike hard against his jaw, and he saw stars as a second punch hit him between his eyes. He stumbled backwards, but didn't fall. He wouldn't give Malfoy the pleasure of seeing him fall.

The pain in his head was still very sharp, and the anger was even more dangerous. He launched a fist at Malfoy's stomach, then a second at his head, and a third blow, a fourth... They were drawing a crowd now, students stopped in their tracks to watch the brawl.

Draco struck again, punching Harry squarely in the chest, knocking the wind out of him. Why were they fighting with fists? His question was answered when Malfoy once again drew his wand.

"_OBLIVIATE!_"

The spell just barely missed Harry's head, singeing his hair just above his ears.

"Obliviate? What do you think you're doing?! _Diffindo!_" Malfoy's robes split down the middle, and he was left with nothing but his shirt and pants underneath. Galleons spilled onto the floor from what once was his pocket, and his prefect badge was ruined.

"_Sonorous!_" Malfoy pointed his wand at Harry threateningly.

"_EXPELLIARMUS!_" Harry's voice had been magnified so greatly that the windows shattered around him. Malfoy was flung into the air, nearly flying out of the window himself. Harry was barely aware that they had caused quite a stir, and nearly a third of the school was now watching them.

"_Quietus._"

Draco composed himself, taking his wand from the floor.

"_STUPEFY!_" he and Harry yelled simultaneously. Both were knocked unconscious instantly, blown backwards by their spells.

"Harry!" said Hermione, her cry falling on deaf ears. "Ron, bring Professor McGonagall..."

Harry felt a heaviness in his entire body, almost like weariness, but he wasn't at all tired. There were voices, and he knew for certain he was in the hospital wing.

"Miss Granger, if Mr. Potter should wake..."

It was Madam Pomfrey that he heard before his mind went blank again.

"I think he's about to wake up." He heard Ron's voice, and Hermione's as well. "Madam Pomfrey! He's waking up now."

Harry opened his eyes slightly, peering out at the most baffling sight he had ever seen. Every bed in the hospital wing was filled, with Madam Pomfrey running frantically from student to student. He recognized nearly half of the room as Slytherin students, the other half as Gryffindor, and some of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff.

"Miss Patel, drink this. Pass this down to Miss Chang in the corner there. Potter, my goodness. You're one of the last to wake. That was quite a spell you cast yesterday evening."

"Madam Pomfrey, what time is it?"

"Eight o'clock at night. Hermione, over here. You can see him now."

Hermione stood over him. "Hello."

"...What's all this?" Harry said, taking a look around the very crowded room.

"Your fight with Malfoy. The spell you both cast at the same time knocked you both out. But... Everyone standing watching you duel was hit with the same spell. The hospital wing has been flooded with students since yesterday."

"We knocked all of these people unconscious?"

"I'm afraid so," she answered, handing a pillow to Madam Pomfrey. "The Slytherin vs. Hufflepuff Quidditch game was an abomination. Half of the Slytherin Quidditch team was in here. And besides, it was frigid out there. It rained, hailed, and eventually _snowed_, and the game just ended not a half an hour ago. It began at eleven this morning." Harry eyes darted to Malfoy in the bed farther down the row that was across from him, still unconscious.

"Has Malfoy been awake yet?"

"No."

"_They didn't have a Seeker for the game?_"

Hermione laughed, "Of course they did. You think Slytherin would give up that easily? Someone must have filled in, because Tamora brought that in after the game. _They won._" The Snitch lay on a table beside Draco's bed, frozen solid under a layer of ice and snow, its wings bent feebly.

"I'll bet anything that Tamora filled in as Seeker."

"She's the best Keeper they've ever had. I doubt they'd let anyone else take her place, even for one game." There was a bit of anger in what Hermione had said, and Harry had heard it in her voice when she argued with Ron. She was _jealous_.

"You know, she's not the best on the team." That was a lie. All of the top players on the Slytherin team had left, and Malfoy wasn't quite as good in his position as Tamora was in hers. In fact, she could replace Malfoy as Seeker if she had the inclination. Maybe she should have requested to be sorted again, like Sirius. Gryffindor needed a new Keeper, and from what Tamora had told him, Malfoy took the Keeper they already had off of the team with a bribe. Maybe he could bribe the Keeper back onto the team. But then there was Tamora.

She didn't want to be in Gryffindor. She wanted to endure Slytherin two years and hopefully live to tell the tale. Maybe by the end of next year she'd manage to kill Malfoy...

"Ron, did you see the match?" Harry called to him. As soon as Ron walked to Harry's bed Hermione fled to do some mystery errand for Madam Pomfrey.

"Yeah, half of it. It was so bloody cold out there I kept lighting my Divination charts on fire to keep myself warm. Then I had to go inside eventually and come back out later."

"How was the Slytherin team? Who filled in for Malfoy?" Harry was eager to hear the details of the match.

Ron thought a moment. "It was Montague for the first quarter of the match, then he was knocked off of his broom from fifty feet in the air by hail the size of a garden gnome. So for a while, Tamora filled in, then they called her back for Keeper because Hufflepuff was actually making goals for once. So Goyle was considered, then they found out he doesn't even know what a Snitch _is_, so Warrington was the final person. What was strange was when the hail was really thick, I think I saw Tamora catch the Snitch and hand it Warrington. I could be wrong, though." Ron pointed to a bed a few rows away on the same side of the room. "You can ask Tamora if you like. Her entire arm is frozen. Someone thought it was funny to shoot water at her near the end of the game, and her glove was torn off besides."

Harry swung his legs over the side of the bed and walked to Tamora. Her eyes were half-open and she was holding bluebell flames to her right arm in an attempt to thaw the layer of ice. It was much darker in the hospital wing now, and almost everyone was sleeping. She looked up for a second.

"Hello Harry." Everything from her elbow to just above her wrist was still encased in the ice, and her fingers were covered in frost.

"How's your arm?"

"Thawing nicely," she answered, extinguishing the flames for a moment. "You?"

"Fine. I think I did a little damage to Malfoy. I think we both did a little damage to half of the school..."

Tamora laughed, "Not more than the Quidditch match. We've had a team total of thirty broken bones, half of them from Montague. And there were only five of us out there." Harry winced with sympathy, holding bluebell flames to her fingers. The frost dripped onto her robes and almost instantly her fingers were a healthier color than their previous bluish-purple.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome." He sat in a chair by her bed, observing her careful work of thawing her arm. Her eyes were fixed on the flames, even though they darted to Draco every so often. He noticed how her hair was black as onyx, and her eyes were very dark like Sirius'. He recalled how much she resembled Rosaline, though she had a bravery and boldness that Sirius had possessed in abundance. So kind, like her mother. Sharp-witted like her father. How much he would've liked to spend his life knowing them both. What wouldn't he give to have them all back; Padfoot, Prongs, his mother, and Rosaline.

Tamora glanced up at him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Just thinking."

"Of what?"

It was so clear to him now. Tamora was here for a very important reason. She arrived in time to calm the rage and pain at Sirius' death, but she was also a constant reminder that the memory of his godfather had never ceased to live. She was the embodiment of the Marauders as they once were. Everything had changed when she arrived. He had forgotten to hate, at least until he saw Remus' memories in the pensieve.

"Harry?" her eyes seemed amber now. They had a lumination that Harry knew was her common bond with the black cat he often saw leaving their common room late at night. While Harry was lost in his many thoughts, at last it occurred to him that Tamora was calling him.

"Ah... erm... Who caught the Snitch?"

"Well, I don't know if I should say it aloud, there might be some... opponents... awake."

Harry leaned in so she could whisper it into his ear, but jumped a few feet back when he felt her frozen arm brush against his hand. "Sorry. Wait a minute... did you talk to Ron?"

She looked about to see that all of the Hufflepuffs were asleep. "No. If he didn't see Warrington catch the Snitch, than it wasn't Ron's fault. He _didn't_ catch it. I did."

"Why?"

"At that point, I would've done anything to end the match. Warrington was about to be hit by a Bludger, so I reached out for the Snitch instead. If I hadn't, we would all still be out there in the storm for over nine hours.. It was already eight and two-thirds. As for injuries, Warrington's over there right now with a broken wrist, and a few other fractures. But at least he's safe from the snow and hail. I heard even the Whomping Willow lost a few branches from the hailstorm."

Harry finally asked her, "What happened in Divination?"

"Oh, yes. I have to explain that. Tonks was dressed as Trelawney. The Order sent her to tell me about Pettigrew and Lestrange. They've been sighted, Harry. Lucius, too. He's been wandering around Grimmauld Place."

"Why didn't you tell me before?"

"I didn't want to tell you until I could speak with Remus. Draco heard it, too."

Harry raised an eyebrow, "Malfoy was allowed to hear it?"

"Well his father is a maniacal killer now. I think Draco has the right to know where he is." She thought of something important, nodding as if making up her mind whether or not to tell him. "Peter was seen last in the London Underground, lord knows why. He never was very sharp. I've been setting mousetraps underneath my bed and around my luggage."

"For Peter?"

"No, for Draco. He's been sneaking into the girls' dormitories lately in socks because he thinks that I can't hear him if his shoes are off. Wakes me up every time. So, I hope he steps by my bed in bare feet next time. I'll be ready for him. Maybe he'll stop if he loses a few toes."

Harry smiled in spite of himself. He could imagine Draco sneaking into the dormitories in bare feet and stumbling over a few aptly-placed mousetraps in the pitch-blackness, and Tamora hearing the entire thing with a triumphant smirk plastered on her face. That was another thing about Tamora that had been advanced since she became an Animagus. She could hear uncommonly well before, but now, it was almost eerie how much she heard.

"Tamora, I remember you said wolfsbane would most likely kill Remus."

"And?"

"...Remus used a Wolfsbane potion before. Why wasn't it lethal?"

"Ah yes. That. Well, actually, the Wolfsbane caused the bout of dementia you saw that night. He would have had some control over the wolf had he not taken the potion before. It was accumulating with every potion he drank, and when he stopped, that was the reaction. There was barely any wolfsbane it the potion itself; it was mostly water. Had he taken any more wolfsbane in any form, it would've driven him mad the moment he drank it and eventually killed him.

"There is lighter news. Moody said he's found something Remus can use, something safe. He didn't tell me exactly what it was, but I trust Mad-Eye enough. He wouldn't put Remus in danger. He might turn Draco into a ferret, though. You should've seen the look on his face when Moody threatened him." She was wearier now. He assumed she hadn't slept at all. Her arm was completely frozen, it must have kept her awake.

"I'll keep thawing the ice. You try to sleep," said Harry.

She held her wand closer to her arm. "Nonsense."

"Go to sleep. You're tired. I can tell." He halted her in her protest. "Sleep. I'm fine." She finally gave in and closed her eyes with a half-smile. "Thanks, Harry."

An hour or two later, Harry was about to doze off in the chair by her bed when Lupin crept into the room.

"Harry?" he whispered. "Harry?" His eyes locked on Harry, and he became frantic. "Oh, there you are. How are you? When did the match end? Is she hurt?" He examined her arm with a certain amount of shock.

"I'm fine. Half of her arm is frozen solid, and I think I saw Madam Pomfrey give her some Skele-Gro earlier. She's been asleep for a few hours now."

"Oh thank god, they gave me such a scare when they told me about the match. I've been in the dungeons all afternoon. I didn't even know about the storm."

"Who are _they?_"

"Dumbledore and McGonagall."

Harry played back what Remus had said in his mind. "...Why were you in the dungeons? You told me a few days ago that you wouldn't miss the game for the world."

"Well... I wasn't quite feeling myself today. I just thought it was better to stay inside."

"In the dungeons?" asked Harry. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"Oh yes, fine. I was just a bit under the weather. Did she seem to be in pain? Tell me what happened during the game, Harry."

"Not much. A lot of bones broken in both teams. Hail... snow... Tamora caught the Snitch."

"Did she really?" Remus asked, muttering something to make very large flames erupt from his wand. "Sorry. I can't tell you, you're not allowed some spells until next year. You're honestly not ready for some of these spells." He held the flames to her arm, the ice melting rapidly.

"I bet _you _learned them your third year."

"Second," he admitted, "but that's beside the point. I learned the advanced spells because I needed to."

"And I won't? I'm facing Voldemort, Remus!"

"But you're not going to burn him to death- just wait until it's safer. After all, you're not going to be able to defend yourself with your head blown off. And I assure you, that's what will happen if you try something too advanced."

"Oh really?" Harry stood, moving towards the middle of the room. He visualized the stag, and in an instant he stood four cloven hooves and horns protruded from a glistening white pelt.

"Oh my..." said Remus with approval, "Tamora's work, no doubt? I knew she wouldn't keep it a secret, but this is miraculous... Fine work, Harry. Well done. But you know this must be kept a secret." The stag bowed his head in a slow nod. "Yes. I always thought you'd be a stag like your father. Very noble creatures. Now transform back before Madam Pomfrey comes in to make the rounds for medicine."

Harry transformed with ease; he had been practicing in the dormitories late at night, and after long Quidditch practices when no one was looking.

"I'm very proud of you, and Tamora. What animal is she?– Wait, don't tell me... She's got to be something black, it's in her nature, not just her name. She's always been quieter than Sirius, but far more determined and bold. And she is quite crafty. I bet she's a cat."

"Yeah," said Harry. "And she taught Ron and Hermione, too."

"Well I knew it would be an easy task for Hermione. But Ron... I'm impressed."

"Oh. His animaigus is a–"

"Toad, yes. Tamora told me about that when she explained what happened with Draco."

"I'm not quite clear what happened; what did she tell you?"

"Exactly what she told you. He tried some tricks to get them alone together and she had not choice but to stun him. I'm not sure how much of that is true, but if there's something worse involved, I'm not sure that I'd want her to tell me. The point is that she's fine." The ice was almost completely melted, and Tamora's skin beneath the ice had taken on a deep sickly blue. "Poor thing... I don't know who would have done that to her. It looked like the severing charm and the water came from the Gryffindor stands; at least that's what McGonagall thought. Do you know anyone in Gryffindor who would hate her for any reason?"

Harry looked around the room, and saw Hermione quickly lay down and pretend to sleep as if he'd never notice. "...No. No I don't."

"What are you looking at?"

"Nothing. Just a barn owl," said Harry loud enough for Hermione to hear.

Hermione frowned in her 'sleep', turning over in the bed.

"Actually, Remus, someone comes to mind, but I can't tell just yet... All I know is _I'd_ never harm a friend out of jealousy. Never."

Remus had finally melted the ice completely. He extinguished the flames, taking her hand in his. Tamora's arm immediately fell limp and her arm was contorted mid-way.

"It's broken," Remus said, cradling her arm. Harry looked over her forearm, finding that as Remus cradled it, a point just below her wrist bent backward where the bone had broken completely.

"Oh," Harry let out an involuntary sound of alarm. He saw, now that the ice was off, that the bones in her arm were quite damaged. Remus pressed very lightly on the skin below her wrist, trying to make her wrist completely vertical. Tamora cried out in her sleep and grasped her arm, causing more pain. She sat up unexpectedly, not entirely awake, but all the more enraged.

"DRACO GET OUT OF–" She opened her eyes, the hospital wing coming into view. "...Hello Remus."

Harry tried not to seem skeptical, but she'd just yelled at Draco in her sleep... Remus elbowed him so that he would stop staring into space.

"Hello love," Remus said cheerfully, trying to hide his weariness.

Tamora scooted over on the bed, beckoning Remus to sit. "You'll sleep here, won't you?"

"Well... all right. But I have to leave early in the morning. I've got classes to teach, and I have to get Madam Pomfrey before you go to sleep. That arm needs attention."

Remus called Madam Pomfrey in, who moved quickly about with Skele-Gro and bandaging cloth. "Oh dear, that's quite a break. Completely detached, I'm afraid. This needs extra attention. Montague had four just like this. The very end of his backbone- hanging by a thread! Don't know why they allow Quidditch, it draws people to the hospital wing in droves! Now I'm only doing this because it's necessary." She ordered the cloth to animate with a flick of her wand, and it wrapped itself around Tamora's arm, trying to snap her arm into place. "Do you know how you were carrying on in your sleep earlier today? You'll keep your arm from healing with all of that moving around! This is the only way. If I wrapped your arm too fast, it'd be a great deal more painful."

Tamora hissed, biting her lip and shutting her eyes tightly. "Must it hurt more than when my skin was adhered to ice?!" Her eyes opened wide and flashed a bright amber.

Harry jumped back. She was transforming... in a way. She was still human... But if anyone saw her transformation, she'd be expelled. Madam Pomfrey stood aghast, dropping her wand to the floor involuntarily, drawing her hand to her mouth.

"Remus," he whispered, "do something!" Remus seemed to be just as stunned as Harry. Tamora made a slow growl of a noise, trying to reverse the transformation. At that moment, Draco woke with a start in the bed across from hers, staring at the sharp claw-like fingernails now forming at the ends of her fingers.

Madam Pomfrey was barely aware of what was occurring, and she shrieked, waking up most of the students. Remus did the only thing he could think of to stop her, and the only reasonable solution. "_Stupefy,_" he whispered, Tamora falling instantly unconscious. The claws were fingernails, and she was completely relaxed in a human state. Madam Pomfrey looked from Tamora, to Remus above her with his wand drawn, and then to Harry, fainting onto Neville in the bed behind her.

"What did you..." Draco began, finding himself at a loss for words. It appeared that Draco was the only person that had seen her, because in the moment that Tamora had produced claws, she had knocked the only lit candles out of the air. It had been so dark, that only Remus had seen what exactly had taken place.

Remus faced the bewildered students with a collected presence, "I am terribly sorry that Madam Pomfrey woke you. She had not noticed that Tamora was in the bed, and she sat down on her frozen arm." A few students laughed, others whispered about what they thought they had truly seen. None were correct. It had been far too dark. No matter what the students thought, the majority returned to their slumber and left well enough alone. Draco, never known to leave any matter without questioning, stayed awake, watching Remus raise his wand. "_Ferula_," he muttered, Tamora's arm quickly wrapped in a splint. Harry had seen it before, in the Shrieking Shack; Remus had then used it on Ron.

"Harry," whispered Remus, "it's because she's underage. She wasn't prepared for the stage of Animagus just yet. I wish I didn't have to do that..."

"Better unconscious than expelled," Harry reasoned. "But... why hasn't that happened to any of us?"

"It affects everyone differently," he explained, "it's possible Ron was not able to return to a human state on Halloween for the same reason Tamora transformed out of pain. Heightened emotions can cause the witch or wizard to transform, or become unable to do so. But once you master it, if age and maturity permit, you will control it. You seem to have already succeeded, Harry. Even with the thought that Madam Pomfrey might be coming you kept a cool head. That's where you differ from both. You have more control over fear, and anger."

"That's because I've dealt with it more," he answered slowly, sitting back in the chair by Tamora's bed again. "Where are you going to sleep now?"

"Here with Tamora," said Remus, crawling into the bed. "That's what she said, after all. She's scared, I can tell. She always stays very near to me when she's scared. It's her protection. Well, goodnight, Harry. I'll see you in the morning."

Harry shot a glance at Draco, who was still awake sitting up in bed. "What are you doing awake? Keep out of her business, Malfoy. The last thing she needs right now is you to disturb her sleep."

"I didn't say anything to you, Potter. I wanted to see if her _claws_ were frozen still." Malfoy had looked saddened at first glance, but Harry knew that was impossible. He never felt any type of pity for anyone. "I see you're still wearing that black eye. Quite impressive, isn't it?"

"No more impressive than you are," Harry replied, "and leave her alone. Hermione won't be able to stop me next time I try to kill you. Next time I'll succeed. So you'd best stay away from her."

"What about Granger? D'you think my father will spare her if the Dark Lord sees fit to kill? Oh no, Potter. She'll be first."

"Mr. Malfoy," said Remus dangerously, "it would do you a great disservice to suddenly become expelled for such talk of death eaters. _He's not coming home, Draco..._"

At the last whispered words, the room was suddenly colder. Harry noticed a tremor in Malfoy's hands, as though this news was bringing physical pain upon him.

"Silence, you stupid werewolf," Malfoy snapped.

Remus could take the insults no longer. He got up from the bed and snarled in Malfoy's face, his lycanthropy eyes revealing the monster within. "Stupid werewolf, am I? You don't know anything of pain and sadness, you rich, pompous brat!"

Harry could see that Malfoy was terrified, and he stammered a reply. "M– My father w–will have you t– taken from the school."

"Your father doesn't know his own name! Hisillumination soul has been chained by the Dark Lord, barely a man with a pitch black heart that died when he became a death eater! And from the way you talk, I think you've become one too. I wouldn't doubt it for a _moment._ But I won't tell them, Draco. I won't tell any of them. I am still living under false hope that once the Dark Lord is destroyed you can be saved. But you're a Malfoy; it's nothing to be proud of. So shut your mouth and keep that sharp tongue of yours from forming any _lies_."

By now Malfoy was rigid with fear. Remus smiled widely, his eyes still luminous and pupils vertical and only slightly round. "That's a good boy. Now go to sleep." Malfoy cringed, pulling the covers up close to his face. Remus walked back to the bed, drawing the covers around Tamora and himself protectively. "Goodnight, Harry. It's safe for you to sleep now. He won't bother you." Harry passed the bed, seeing how Tamora clung to him, and now he saw the little frightened infant clutching her guardian's clothes. The images fit in his mind only for a moment, then he moved on to lay down. His weariness was bringing back sights he now longed to forget.

"Goodnight, Tamora," he whispered to no one. "Goodnight, Remus... Goodnight mother, father, Rosaline. Goodnight, Sirius. I'll see you all in the morning..." With that, he fell asleep, and hopefully his dreams proved more comforting than his reality.

_A/N: Boo hoo. No reviews for chapter five. Oh well! I've become chronically inclined to write this day and night. But then again, I did take a while just to go in the pool..._

_But I'm on the outside_

_I'm lookin' in_

_I can see through you_

_See your true colors_

_'Cause inside you're ugly _

_You're ugly like me_

_I can see through you_

_See to the real you..._

_At this point, I am not sure if that song will have any relevance concerning this fic, but it might. You never know._


	7. Sette

_Chapter Seven_

The halls were bustling with cheerful people handing out gifts and holding out mistletoe. Christmas was near, it was almost upon them. Harry couldn't help but think of Cho whenever he saw the mistletoe, the people, the kissing... It was unusual, but the memory didn't hold sadness or even regret. He was relieved, somehow, to be rid of the anger and frustration he'd felt with her. Sure, it had been wonderful to find the girl he'd thought about day and night finally was there kissing him... But she loved Cedric, that was all. How could he compare to the most popular boy in the school?

Cedric was perfect in every girl's eyes. He was most popular, most handsome, most athletic; most, most, most... He was the favorite in every house, except for Slytherin. That's where Malfoy reigned supreme. But now he was gone... She still didn't love him. Or even like him. Nothing. There was nothing there anymore... if there was ever...

"Merry Christmas!" he heard a joyous voice declare. It was Cho. Oh god... not him. He couldn't face her. No... it wasn't him.

"Merry Christmas," said another voice. It didn't occur to him for a while what was happening, even though he knew that it was Malfoy's voice he had heard. He turned around just enough to see Malfoy kiss Cho in the middle of the hallway.

"Decided to snog a different girl every day?" Harry remarked.

"At least I get to snog _someone_, Potter."

Cho was completely put-off and walked away from Draco in a huff, waiting by the door to the dungeons. "Trying to get her back, are you? Well, she doesn't want you anymore. She's decided to choose someone superior."

"She's dated Cedric, Malfoy. You're nothing compared to him."

"And everything compared to you! You with your scar and your name that can get people to praise you wherever you go. You've done nothing worth praise."

"You don't have to try to make everyone else miserable just because Tamora doesn't want you."

Malfoy kept his mouth shut and walked past him, leaving Harry to face Cho.

"Oh, hello Harry. I didn't see you there." Cho was avoiding him intentionally, and she called for Draco, walking straight past as if Harry was a stranger. The door to the dungeons swung closed, and Harry was left alone. It wasn't that he was jealous, it was that Draco was trying to _make_ him jealous. Ron met Harry at the door, looking exhausted. They traveled into the dungeons, then stopped at the door to the classroom.

"What's the matter, Ron? You look like you've been attacked."

"Close," he said, trying to fix his completely mangled hair. "Millicent sent her bloody cat after me; don't know how she got it into the common room. Jumped on my head while I was sleeping last night, before you came in. I didn't get any sleep, bloody cat kept me sneezing the whole night. I'm allergic to them, or at least hers. I think she put something in its fur."

Snape folded his arms, keeping the classroom door open. "Good morning, Mr. Potter; Mr. Weasley. Do you feel quite prepared to enter the classroom, or would you rather linger at the door until you are ready? I am _so sorry_ to interrupt your tale of a life-or-death situation with a cat. Has Miss Black been loitering in your common room again?" The joy plastered on his face was unnerving.

"No, Professor, but you might want to ask Millicent what her cat was doing in the Gryffindor common room. Entering another house's common room is strictly forbidden, or didn't you know?" 

Snape scoffed, gesturing with a wave of his arm for them to enter the classroom. "Come in before I decide to alert the Headmaster of your Animagi identities. Yes, I do know. And you won't _believe_ who turned you in."

"Malfoy didn't know, he couldn't have known," whispered Ron in horror. "Unless it wasn't him..."

Harry looked about for Hermione. She was seated beside Tamora, who sat with her arms folded at the desk, hiding her face in her arms. Snape seemed quite pleased with himself, stirring a potion slowly at the front of the classroom. Ron and Harry took their usual seats, Harry and Hermione sitting in the aisle facing eachother. Harry could see from Tamora's look of defeat that something had happened. Something terrible.

"What's wrong with Tamora?" he asked Hermione concernedly. She, too, seemed wasted away by sadness.

"He knows, Harry. And what's worse, he got _all_ of his information from Tamora."

Harry leaned toward her while Snape had his back turned. "Snape? How?!"

"Veritaserum," he heard Tamora's muffled voice reply. She lifted her head, "In my drink during detention. That's why he wanted me in detention with him instead of Filch for levitating Mrs. Norris. Took him long enough to get me for it. But when I got to his room..." Tamora explained slowly, and Harry could see it in his mind, as it was played out.

"Sit, and do not move unless you wish to have a limb burned off."

"I am no longer a docile house pet, Professor. Courtesy is a very challenging concept, I know."

"Sit and do not move unless you wish to have a limb burned off, _please._"

"Better, better..." She took a seat in the very front of the empty classroom, nearest him.

Snape placed a cup of pumpkin juice on the table in front of her, offering her the drink. She shook her head. "Why are you being so polite? Certainly not a force of habit."

"I am lacking kindness, not common courtesy, Miss Black. Though you seem to be the exact opposite."

"I do seem that way, don't I? I reserve all of my disregard and disrespect just for you, Professor. Don't you feel very honored now?"

"It would do you much more good to keep quiet in detention, or I may very well put you with Filch. And trust me, he is a fate worse than death." The smirk on his lips was very unreassuring, and quite terrifying. Nothing good ever came from Severus Snape's happiness.

A potion Snape was making was surrounded by billowing smoke, which was powdery in her lungs. She couldn't see very much, and the potion bubbled and spat tiny flecks of scalding water at her. Tamora coughed and held her hand to her chest, feeling a constricting pain in her lungs. "S– Snape, please," she coughed, reaching blindly for the pumpkin juice. Snape smiled in a twisted way, handing her the cup. Had she seen the look on his face, Tamora would've put the cup down and walked into the hallway for air.

"Now Tamora. Since you have succumb to my potion, let us see how much you know about the Animagi."

"I should've known you'd do this, Snivellus," she said, unable to move.

"Quiet. You speak only when I question you. How many of your... _friends_ are Animagi?"

"I won't..." she struggled, clapping her hands over her ears.

Snape smirked, lifting her hand off of her left ear. "Mr. Potter's an Animagi, is he not?" he whispered into her ear. She shuddered, trying to keep her mouth from spilling out the words.

"Snivellus you g... I... Harry is... No!"

"Take your time, Miss Black. What about Mr. Weasley? Miss Granger, perhaps? How many are there? I'll be so heartbroken when Dumbledore expels them. _How will I cope?_"

Tamora's entire body stiffened and she sat up straight, her mouth opening against her will. She stared blanky up at Snape. "Harry is an Animagi. Ron and Hermione, too."

"And what are they? What animals, Tamora."

"Harry is a stag. Ron is a toad, and Hermione is an owl. And you are an ass."

"I didn't ask your opinion on myself. But thank you, that's all the information I'll need from you, Miss Black."

"Let us begin with something a bit simpler. I've been told I am devoid of sympathy, so now I will show some remorse for Longbottom's inadequacy. This is by far the least complex potion I have ever requested for completion."

Just as he was about to announce their assignment, Malfoy stepped through the door, closing it with a barely audible click. Tamora's head snapped to the source of the sound and she waited for Snape's reaction.

"Coming in late, Draco? Take a seat, then."

"But... he's late," Tamora spoke up. "shouldn't there be a house point deduction?"

"Miss Black," said Snape, emphasizing the dread with which he spoke her name. "Do you seriously suggest point subtraction from your own house?"

"Yes, I believe I do."

"Very well," he said nonchalantly, "if you can find another Slytherin to second the motion, I will see fit to subtract points." The Slytherins in the class were without a doubt the worst in the entire house (which is a very prestigious title), and all were friends of Malfoy. "No one? Well then. Have a seat, Draco. _Your name has been cleared._"

"Oh, well! If that is true, then possibly there is another proposition by the same rules. Harry, Ron, and Hermione will not be expelled if five or more from their own house will second the motion."

"I don't believe that's entirely appropriate."

"Why not? Let's see. Gryffindors, please rise."

"You do not know your place in this class, and you are a disruption, _sit down._" Snape already received little or no respect from the Gryffindors, but to have one of his own refuse his commands was insufferable, even incomprehensible.

Tamora commanded their full attention. "Now, be seated _if _you wish to see these three expelled." Not one of them sat down. "I rest my case, Professor."

"Expulsion is not a decision for a classroom poll, Miss Black. Now if you will not take your seat, I will give you another detention with myself. And I promise that this detention will be more trying than the last."

"Please _do_ give me detention."

"The night of the Formal Ball."

"Please _do not_ give me detention on that night."

"You requested detention, and I have given you the date. You meet me after class or you will find yourself in much worse trouble than Veritaserum." Snape continued the lesson without hesitation, explaining a simple healing drought. Harry hated the way Malfoy looked at her, the look in his eye when he did. The smirks, the way he raised his eyebrows suggestively at Crabbe and Goyle. The way they laughed. The look on her face when the boggart leaned against her and meant to kiss her. The look of utter fear. It made everything that had happened several degrees worse.

"I am pleased to announce that I can be rid of you all early today," said Snape. "The class times have been halved because of the Christmas dinner tonight. I also wish to congratulate our Quidditch team on their complete recovery from the brutal Quidditch match with Hufflepuff. Only in a severe storm with half of our team missing is Hufflepuff a worthy opponent."

The Slytherins were beside themselves with laughter, reliving the Hufflepuff team's feeble attempt to win. Even if it had been quite pathetic, they were evil by nature; their passion was the misfortune of others.

"Class dismissed. Remember your detention, Miss Black, but more importantly, remember your place."

"Go away, Draco," said Tamora with the same tone his voice usually carried.

Malfoy followed her up to the Fifth floor corridor in silence, then hit her with words like tidal waves, crashing over her head. "I know what your boggart is."

She stopped, nearly causing him to run into her.

"I know that it's me. Are you really that frightened of me?" he whispered from behind her. How she wished that she had walked with Hermione instead of taking her usual path. "Well don't worry, Tamora." Draco placed his head upon her right shoulder and kissed the ridge of her ear. "It only makes you all the more enjoyable to tame. The little black kitten," he mocked in her ear, making a distinct purr.

"I hope you die in wanting," she grinned, "because you will before I let you into_ my_ mind."

"Wanting," he laughed scathingly, turning her around to face him. "I never wanted something I couldn't get."

"Then I must be quite a new experience. We're going to be late for Divination. We might make Trelawney too happy if she's lead to think we dropped out of her course." She ventured down the hall, knowing from past experience that he was not far behind. Meanwhile, in the classroom, Hermione sat alone with the two empty chairs, knowing something had occurred between them. Malfoy was too used to acquiring his prize to give up on Tamora that easily.

She was just about to leave the classroom (even in the middle of a lesson, it was only Divination after all) when Draco's torso appeared ascending the ladder. Once he was into the room, he extended a hand for Tamora, who brandished her wand at him and helped herself into the class. Tamora closed the trapdoor, alerting Trelawney of her presence.

"You're both late," she said, her voice floating like so much smoke from a stick of incense. "I must subtract five points each."

"Yes, Professor," said Tamora automatically, both walking to the table.

"Before you may be seated," said Trelawney, "I must ask where you have been. You have missed a great deal of this very pivotal lesson."

"_Pivotal?_" Draco muttered to Tamora, and she elbowed him, answering politely. "I was on an errand for Professor Lupin. You can ask him if you like." If there was one thing Tamora knew about Remus, it was that he had plenty of experience with forming lies at a moment's notice.

"And Mr. Malfoy?" Trelawney asked, still aiming her questions at Tamora.

She thought about this, and the smile had faded from his face. "Well, Mr. Malfoy was trying to slow me down by asking incessant questions. I'm not sure what he was doing before we met in the hallway." Tamora could see Hermione grin out of the corner of her eye, and knew that Malfoy was stunned.

"Well, Mr. Malfoy? What have you been doing, then?" Her voice was a bit more stern, but still lingering in the atmosphere, higher in the clouds than even her head.

"Just came from the hospital wing, Professor," he answered smoothly. Tamora smiled. He never faltered between lies. "I was being treated for a previous Quidditch wound that didn't heal."

"Good one," Tamora whispered out of the corner of her mouth. Draco nodded proudly. Trelawney was now so confused that she didn't seem to even notice that it was an obvious lie.

"Ah, then begin on your assignment. I'm sure Miss Granger will be more than happy to tell you what we have been doing so far." Hermione nodded simply to quiet Trelawney long enough to ask Tamora where she had honestly been. Well, at least Malfoy and Tamora had one common bond. They both took pride in confusing Trelawney, and they were both very successful at doing so. Actually... they had several things in common. And what had really occurred in the hallway? Hermione knew Tamora better than she let on. Something had happened.

"It's nothing, Hermione," she replied, folding her charts. "He tries, I'll give you that. But never hard enough to produce any kind of effect." Tamora had said it loud enough for him to hear (he was only on the other side of Hermione, after all).

"Maybe force is the only way to _produce an effect_, then?" he drawled. "Please do tell me the secret, because I've been trying to find it for the longest time."

"The secret is sincerity. Try that before you sneer at me again."

Hermione didn't even approve of hints. She whispered while he walked away to get a palm reading chart. "You shouldn't encourage him like that. He's bound to fall in love with you."

"He wouldn't love me. He doesn't love me. He loves the chase, with any girl it's the same. Isn't that right, Draco?"

"You never do know for sure," he answered casually... too casually, sitting beside Hermione again. "And why do you always sit between us, Granger?"

"I wouldn't sit next to you at all if Tamora hadn't requested that I divide you two. Don't change the subject of the conversation."

"You mean the one you butted your way into?" Malfoy was just barely hanging onto this truce Tamora had made him keep with Hermione, and it was beginning to flounder. Hermione glared at him and instantly began to work on what was left of her classwork on palm reading and its similarities with the ruling birth signs under the moon and sun.

"Sun signs. At least there's something interesting in this course." Tamora read the instructions. "Draco, when's your birthday?"

"The ninth of January. Why?"

"To find your sun-birth correlation with palm-reading. Trelawney wants us to change partners for varied results on the chart. Give me your hand."

"_What?_"

"I'm not asking you to kiss me, I'm asking for your hand, give me your hand. _Hand_, Draco. It's connected to your wrist. Sometimes used to catch the Snitch, but I don't expect you to know what catching a Snitch is like."

His nose crinkled and his eyebrows furrowed at the remark. He refused to speak, instead he scoffed at nothing and held out his hand palm-up.

"Thank you." Tamora examined his palm, and he looked on curiously as she traced lines. "Hm... no. I can't... see..."

"Can't see what?" Malfoy seemed enthralled.

"Anything! You're in my light." She scanned the lines with her index finger, and he withdrew his hand quickly. "What's the matter?"

"Tickles," he muttered, trying to make sure no one would hear him.

"_Aww... Is Draco Malfoy ticklish?_" mocked Tamora with a laugh. "Fine. I'll just make up something that would sound plausible to Trelawney."

"Nonsense?"

"Exactly."

Hermione sighed, resting her head in her hands. "Do you honestly have to read my palm, Malfoy?" 

"No, _Granger_, I can write some nonsense about you."

"Better yet, I'll write it. Lord only knows what you'll write about her," Tamora said in a huff. "And I've already got yours done. Here it is, Draco. But you still have to read my palm, _god help me._"

"What?"

"Nothing. Read." She held her palm toward him. Draco took her hand and examined it with a blank stare, making it obvious that he wasn't reading her hand at all. Hermione scribbled answers to fill out her chart hastily while he read Tamora's palm, and thank god she didn't look up. Just as Tamora was about to take her hand out of his grasp (knowing he wasn't truly doing anything at all), Draco turned her hand over and kissed it gently, never losing contact with her slowly darkening eyes. "I know what I'm going to write already. Quite easy to read palms, really." His silvery gray eyes bored into hers until she exhaled, pulling her hand away.

"Then you won't be too put off to fill out your graph now. Thank you for your..._ attention_ to the palm-reading."

A smile flitted across his face, and he filled out the chart quickly. "Oh no, it was my pleasure."

"I'm sure it was."

Hermione shot a sideways glance at them. "Did I miss... something?"

"No. Nothing," answered Tamora quickly.

"Class will be–"

"—Dismissed early, yes, we know." Hermione was feeling quite impatient to talk with Tamora, and to leave the unbearable fumes of the classroom.

"I did not finish my sentence," said Trelawney. "Class... will be dismissed early." Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes, Miss Granger- I am very upset to see you leave, too." It was the first time anyone had ever heard Trelawney use sarcasm, and it was disturbing somehow. "Class dismissed... Take care. Heed the warnings of the great beyond. You will each suffer a different fate, and there will be minimal deaths."

Once they were down the ladder and into the hall, Tamora found herself still walking beside Malfoy. Hermione had disappeared to her next class (disappeared being the key word).

"I swear, that woman gets battier every year," said Malfoy to Tamora. "Lucky she doesn't get locked up in St. Mungo's for feeding us that steady diet of cack."

"Oh do contain your love for Divination, Draco. Not that I believe that prat, but what happened to being polite?"

"To her?"

"She is a creature of this earth, though it's never been proven... Even so, _be kind,_ you may surprise yourself." Tamora assumed that Draco thought it beneath him to be kind to another. It was almost impossible. Kindness? What does _that_ have to do with death eaters?

"You know, Tamora," he quipped, "I thought you'd already have asked someone to the Formal Ball."

"And what makes you think I didn't?"

"Pansy. She told me."

"And... why would you want to know whether or not I had an escort?"

She could hear the cruel laugh of Malfoy. "Why do you think?"

"Well I'm not sure. I mean, it can't be that _you _want to escort me to the Ball. You know I'd never accept an offer from you."

"Oh really?"

"And do you want to know why, Draco? I can see past everything. How you used to (and still do) treat all of my friends, the way you treat _your own _so-called friends, even your obvious problems at home with Lucius–" Before she could continue he yelled aloud and lifted her a few inches off of the ground, slamming her against the wall.

"DRACO GET OFF! JUST BECAUSE YOUR FATHER WOULDN'T RECOGNIZE YOU IF YOU WALKED PAST HIM ON THE STREET DOESN'T MEAN THAT YOU SHOULD HURT ME!"

His expression completely changed, and he released her, his entire face slack. The usual spark of criticism that lit his face was completely washed away. Tamora stared at him, waiting for him to say something.

"Draco?"

He nudged past her. "Sorry if I hurt you," Draco whispered. "There's someone I have to see." He wasn't at all himself. He was... empty. Hollow. She could see it, hear it and feel it as he passed her by. Tamora had solved the mystery of his sadness long ago. No love, no acceptance, no warmth, no life... It was more of a curse than anything to have a family that didn't care. What would he have to base his life on if not a strong family? Oh god... the only thing he had to base his life on was...

"Draco wait," Tamora called, "please. I understand what it is–"

"No, no you don't." He kept walking, but he was missing the pride in his step. Tamora reached for his hand, pulling him back a bit before he turned around. "But you understand everything else, don't you? Wise Tamora, the girl with the notorious father. Just like Potter. No, I had respect for you. You never flaunted to spread your name across the front page. But you can dig into my worst memories and drag it out, like punching through my chest and ripping out my heart, still beating." She flinched at his choice of words, but that did not stop the torrent from his mouth. "Yes, I insulted your werew- Professor Lupin. And I apologized (with great difficulty- Draco Malfoy's apologies were the rarest of all). But I never stooped lower. When did I _ever_ bring up your father's death? Answer that before you act like you know me."

"It's not a question of whether I know you, it's a question of whether you know yourself. I'm late for Defense Against the Dark Arts. Remus will be worried."

Harry met her in the hallway and without any hints blurted out, "Why do you talk to Malfoy so often?"

"Because he needs it."

"He needs your sympathy?"

"He needs a friend, if it's possible for me to become one. At the least he needs to talk to someone who has a vocabulary over five words. Mudblood, Potter, Weasel, yes, and no. And that idiotic neanderthal laughter... Would you like to hear that for seven years?"

"He deserves it, Tamora," said Harry honestly. "He's not worth your words."

Tamora continued down the hallway without Harry.

"It's you," said Harry incredulously, "you like him. You insult him, but... you like the way he acts, because it's a challenge for you to outdo him. You're really his friend, aren't you?"

"Tell the professor I've gone to the infirmary. _I think I'm going to be sick._" She stormed off down the hallway, leaving anger in her wake. The professor? Didn't she mean Remus?

"It's all right, Harry," said a silvery from behind him. It was Ravenwolf. "I'll explain after class."

Harry's mind was clouded throughout the entire class. What was Ravenwolf about to explain? Tamora had never denied that she liked him... the thought was sickening. How could she even find him the least bit entertaining? Malfoy wasn't worthy of the ground she walked on. She was so kind, and bold. He was an arrogant coward... Then again, Hermione hadn't complained about him for at least a month and a half. Everything he had ever known was becoming tragically disrupted. Hermione not seeking to kill Malfoy... in fact, _stopping_ Harry from killing him. But even then it had been to save Harry from a worse fate.

But Tamora... she forgave him for insulting Remus. How could she even look at him after what he said? At the same time...

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy. I was wondering if I'd be seeing you here." Remus pulled a chair out. "Sit?"

"No... th..." he stopped himself. It was quite different to say that, even difficult. "But thank you." She'd had quite an adverse effect on him...

"So... Draco, is it?" He nodded to Remus. "It may sound odd, but I know what brings you here. It's Tamora, isn't it?"

"Only indirectly. I want to know _about _her. Her family, her father and mother mostly, her past. Everything." He tried to be his usually calm and collected self, but he found that it's quite difficult to be calm around a werewolf that already dislikes you...

"Well I don't think I have the right to tell you anything about that. And even if I did, what makes you think I'd trust you? You, Draco, are her greatest fear. That's not going to make you any more endearing. And you are also quite an enemy of Harry's. I know for a fact that he doesn't choose enemies without reason, which is also a point against you."

"Yes, I know. But there is something that should make you trust me. You see, Professor, I–"

"–have to go to the hospital wing to check on Tamora. Please, Professor Ravenwolf. It will only take a moment," asked Harry near the end of class.

Ravenwolf nodded. "I'll speak with you at dinner, then?"

"Yes. Thank you, Professor." Harry picked up his books and ran out of the classroom, heading for the infirmary. When he arrived, he found that all of the beds were empty, and Madam Pomfrey was grumbling to herself about being out of fresh blankets.

"Oh hello Harry. Looking for someone?" Madam Pomfrey smiled.

"Yes. Tamora."

"Well, she's not been around here for quite a while- not since that Quidditch game. I did see her pass here. Said she was on her way to the dungeons, I think..."

Harry thanked her and ran down the stairs, through the entrance hall into the dungeons. The usual prefect was gone, probably helping prepare decorations for the feast. Please let her be there... He knew the password. Tamora had told him long ago. It meant something... he remembered. It was the part of the Hogwarts seal.

"Draco dormiens." They really should have picked something different. Then again, why would someone venture into their common room? He didn't speak, but instead he saw. She was sitting in the girls' dormitories on a trunk at the foot of her bed, fiddling with a ring in her palm. He couldn't see anything about the ring, only that it was silver and had some type of engraved words upon the band.

"You can't escape my hearing, you should know that by now," Tamora said, raising her head. "Harry. I'm surprised. Ravenwolf let out early?"

"Only me," Harry answered, walking over and sitting on the bed. "What's it say?"

"It says 'Property of Sirius Black'. My mother and father's little joke to make themselves eachother's property. It's my mother's wedding ring."

"Oh..." was all he could manage. If that was her mother's...

"They took my father's ring when he went into Azkaban. It's probably still there in inventory, or in the garbage somewhere. I've never found out what they do with the prisoners' possessions once they're admitted to Azkaban." Tamora's eyes were fixed upon the silver ring, and she seemed crestfallen.

Harry heaved a sigh. "What did Malfoy do this time?"

"He failed to realize that he is not the only one who's felt pain or loneliness."

"What do you expect of him, Tamora? Honestly. He's a bastard."

"No, the child his father raised is a bastard. There's something..." she laughed sorely. "You know I'm really wasting my time explaining this to you. But you'll see it one day. I promise. On a less complicated note," she began, standing up and putting the ring on her finger. "I have an old friend coming for a visit. He's been granted permission to come over from Durmstrang on holiday. Do you know that he taught me a little bit of Bulgarian? It's really an odd language... form of Slavic. He's quite popular back there."

"Oh, that's nice," said Harry nonchalantly, still considering what she had said before. "What's his name?"

Remus paced the room, and Malfoy was now seated.

"Draco," he said sternly, "I do not care if that is true or not, it is impossible to ask me something like that. I suggest you make your way to the Great Hall soon."

"Please," he said again. He was growing accustomed of these new words, and they began to sound more sincere. "I just want to know about the murder. I want to know why Sirius Black was sent to Azkaban."

Remus' eyes darted to a silver bowl across the room and he smiled eerily. "I know that Professor Dumbledore would find intriguing to know what precisely lurks in that mind of yours. I will exchange a memory of mine... for a memory of yours. Because the one you asked of me is certainly my worst, it must also be _your_ worst memory."

"What? That's ridiculous."

"Fine. I just assumed by your sudden courtesy that you truly wanted to know."

Thoughts darted through his mind, and he closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them slightly and looked in Remus' direction. "My worst?" He rose from his chair and walked over to the bowl at the other side of the room. "If you tell _anyone,_" he said threateningly.

"You'll _what?_"

"I'll tell Tamora about your _new _potion, and what it really is."

Remus grinned at his threat. "I thought you'd know. Very well. And since it is you that I cannot trust, you will be first."

Harry slid off of her bed and began to walk out of the dormitories. "Tamora, the Christmas feast is beginning," he said, "we'd ought to go."

She followed him out of the dormitories and into the dank, barely lit dungeons."And please don't tell anyone about my friend. I want it to be a surprise."

"Oh, it will be," said Harry with a laugh. "Let's go."

In the classroom, Draco prodded his temple with the tip of his wand, removing a silvery strand and setting it down in the bowl. "You'd better keep up your end of the bargain."

"I am notably faithful, not to worry," he chuckled softly. Remus was drawn in, and he could see it in his mind's eye... so real, so vivid. It was Draco, much younger, not more than eight years old. He was wearing slicked-back hair like he had for a few years at Hogwarts, but not the same as he had been. He seemed very much like a normal child, but... tenser.

"Father, why am I needed at these parties?"

"Because every person there wants to see you. You should be proud to be a Malfoy. It's the only reason you are allowed to attend. Being part of this family is the highest honor one could receive."

"Then why do all of the people at work hate you? Pansy said her father is afraid of you."

"Shut your mouth," a female voice snapped, "you know you are not allowed to mention your father's work." It was Narcissa.

"But-"

"Your mother is right," said Lucius. "It would do you better not to say such things. I _advise_ you not to speak for the rest of the night. Just nod politely and shake their hands."

"Father," Draco asked, "...Why do they wear those big black cloaks and those hoods all the time? Don't they get warm? It's summer."

"Shut your mouth!" Lucius ordered, and Draco flinched.

"Yes father," he answered reluctantly.

Then the sudden rush... time had just flashed by. They were now at a large gathering, a Death Eater meeting. It was some type of commendation banquet. The Malfoy Manner was filled with Death Eaters and the occasional Ministry employee (and even those were wearing their black cloaks). There were many that Remus recognized. Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange were chatting with a young woman with a floppy black hat who seemed quite out of place. A spy, possibly? No, if so she would've better disguised herself.

Macnair was laughing over some joke that he had just told, since Goyle had obviously not understood it. Crouch and Nott were discussing something in heated debate, and Crouch's thin mustache was often in a downward spike. Bagman, Dolohov, Crabbe- Igor Karakoff, even. All there. Lucius' party had quite a turnout. He wouldn't be surprised if this was an international gathering. Even... Oh what he would've given to kill Peter at that moment. Macnair, Mulciber, Tavers... And there were so many others. Some speaking Italian, others German or Russian or Czechoslovakian... Every nationality was represented by two or more, and there were several Americans, he noted. And then... Severus. Oh my, what a spectacle he was, talking with Lucius as if he cared. Remus could tell he was in pain to be around so many of them...

Lucius was now introducing his son (for the second or third time) to Severus, which Remus noted that he often did when he was even the slightest bit drunk. Forgetting who he introduced his son to was a specialty of his... he could tell by the look in Draco's eyes. That look Remus had known when he was a child... the 'oh no, he's at it _again?_' look of complete dread. But this was worse. This was embarrassing.

"Father," the little boy piped, "this is the fourth time you've introduced me to Mr. Macnair. I'm almost sure I know him alright. Can I go play with Pansy and Gregory now?"

The few in the crowd by Draco and Lucius were silent. His father was intoxicated and making a fool of himself. All those who were too terrified to tell him were shown up by his own son. He was not, however, plastered beyond wits, and noticed immediately that his son had just made him the butt of many jokes in the Ministry tomorrow morning. That's all he thought as he gathered the guests. "You must excuse my son."

"Your son? Lucius, you are without a doubt making _yourself_ look ridiculous. Draco merely pointed it out." Severus' attempts to walk among them unnoticed were suddenly failing. Why had he defended Draco? Ah, that was it. He wasn't like the rest of them, not a monster, and it was evident.

"Let us continue with our soiree, shall we? Narcissa has prepared quite a meal for us all." That wasn't true either. Narcissa hadn't cooked a thing since the day she was married. They had numerous house elves, Remus was sure of that. Lucius sent a glare directly at his son, and suddenly Remus realized why this was his worst memory. The wrath of Lucius Malfoy was not to interfere with his parties or his work. There, he kept face, until it was time for the true punishment. Remus watched and even heard the time speed by, and it was after the party, and the last guest was about to leave (Macnair stumbled out the door, laughing something about ale).

Draco was already hiding in his room, the door was locked and he was cowering in the corner.

"_Alohomora_," Lucius uttered, and the ebony door opened with a swish. As soon as he had closed the door behind him, swift terror ensued. "HOW_ DARE_ YOU EMBARRASS ME IN FRONT OF ALL OF THOSE GUESTS, YOU LITTLE–"

"I'm sorry, father," Draco whimpered, shutting his eyes.

"_Sorry won't stop the jeering tomorrow at the Ministry, Draco!_ You should've known better than to meddle. I TOLD YOU TO KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT, SO STOP YOUR SNIVELING THIS INSTANT!"

"Don't hurt me, please!"

"And what do you propose I should do? Let you go after causing such a stir at the most important gathering of the year?! THE ENTIRE LEGION OF DEATH EATERS WAS THERE TO SEE THE SPLENDOR OF OUR HOME AND TO GREET THE NEWEST OF OUR CLAN, _YOU,_ AND YOU DISAPPOINTED THEM ALL!" he roared, taking his wand into his hand.

'Oh god...' thought Remus, watching Lucius raise his wand at Draco.

"No– father, please!"

"_Oh no, we won't let mother hear this. _She's out to see a play, I made sure that nothing would interfere with tonight. The most important night of the year, Draco."

"Please- I'm sorry! Please don't–" Draco was huddled with his knees to his chest, tears streaming down his face.

"_CRUCIO!_" Lucius yelled ferociously.

The last thing Remus heard was Draco's screams as he writhed and convulsed on the floor...

Remus was back in the classroom, Draco sitting in the corner. "You were probably quite pleased to see that. Now I'd like what I asked for."

There was nothing he could say. What could he tell Draco that would explain what he had seen, except... "Oh Draco, I'm so sorry. I knew that Lucius was cruel, but to that extent I'd never dreamed–"

"Save your speeches of pity for some poor dolt who needs them." Draco reinserted the silvery strand into his head and beckoned Remus to the bowl. "We bargained. Here's your end."

In the Great Hall, the banquet had already begun, shortly after an amusing anecdote provided by Dumbledore. The food was a wonder in itself, as it had always been. Roasted turkey and goose in a pattern down each table, surrounded by a mixture of deserts (and many forms of potato) one only dreams could be possible, topped off with instantly refilling glasses of butterbeer, compliments of Fred and George (the only real improvement to the school they had ever produced, other than ridding them of Umbridge).

Harry looked about for Remus, and noted that Malfoy, too, was missing. Where had they gone? Hopefully not in the same room, not after the night Tamora's Animagus studies backfired. That's when Malfoy showed his true colors. No matter how Tamora would force him to see, to Harry, Malfoy would always be an enemy. There was no possible way to see past it.

"And how long do you think Ron and Hermione can stay angry with eachother?" Tamora asked, watching as the two sat at opposite ends of the table.

"Until one of them gives in. And that won't be happening any time soon. I've seen this before, and something unusual happens soon after a row like that."

"Like what?"

"Well, then we discovered that the cat and rat they were fighting about were far from pets."

"I hope Draco's a rat. I want to hunt him and dangle him above my razor-sharp teeth until he squeaks pathetically and I swallow the stupid rat whole."

Harry gaped at her. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"Oh yes. Fine." Tamora began to shove a toothpick through a cookie with the Hogwarts seal in animated food dye on the front. Whomsoever picked up the cookie would have their house flash for a moment, then go back to the seal. Tamora, however, was too busy stabbing out the word "Draco" on the Hogwarts seal to notice.

Ron lifted the cookie off of her plate. "It's not the cookie's fault that he has a stupid name. Look what you've done. Completely mutilated. I'm going to have to put it out of its misery now." He shoved the mangled cookie in his mouth and moved on in his conversation with Seamus.

"God bless Ron," laughed Tamora, "defender of baked goods everywhere."

"Harry," said a voice from behind him. It was Ravenwolf. "I need to speak with you now. And Dumbledore has requested that you spend a moment in his office, Tamora."

Both he and Tamora got up from the table and followed Ravenwolf out of the Great Hall.

"What's this all about?" Tamora asked him.

Harry shrugged and ascended the steps with Ravenwolf. "Professor, shouldn't you show Tamora where Dumbledore's–"

"I'm fine, Harry. I know where his office is." She glanced down where a corner of the Marauder's Map protruded from her pocket. "I'll see you tomorrow morning. Maybe we can play some chess."

As soon as Tamora was down the hall and out of sight, Ravenwolf pulled him aside. "We don't really have to waste time by going to the classroom when you'll be headed to Dumbledore soon."

"What's wrong with Remus? You must know."

"That is what I needed to tell you... But you cannot tell Tamora. I swore to him she wouldn't find out."

"Hello Tamora," said Dumbledore cordially. "Enjoying the feast?"

"Headmaster," she said, "I thought there was something more important to discuss than the feast."

"Then you are correct," he said with a hint of concern in his voice, "the news I deliver to you is urgent."

In the hallway, Harry was stricken with such surprise he had never felt until that moment. He nearly forgot to breathe as Ravenwolf spoke.

"Why didn't he tell us, Professor?"

"Harry, what he does and does not tell you is all for a reason."

"Well I won't let him hurt himself!" snarled Harry.

"Shh!" Ravenwolf said, putting her hand over his mouth and pulling him into the nearest classroom. "Someone's coming. Someone not from this school. I can hear it."

"I didn't hear anything–"

"Sh- don't. Quiet," she whispered.

Dumbledore disappeared into a door at the top of a small flight of stairs just behind Fawkes. "I'll only be a moment, Tamora."

Ravenwolf and Harry waited in the endless silence for at least five minutes, when finally Harry could hear light taps on the floor. Someone had muffled their own footfalls? No... it was... footpads. Then, a low canine growl and the screech of Mrs. Norris. A dog was chasing Mrs. Norris down the hall past the classroom... a large black dog... The cat's hisses died down, and Harry peered out of the classroom. The dog had disappeared.

"Did you see where it went?" Ravenwolf whispered.

Harry shook his head. "I know who it was... but it can't be. I have to go to Dumbledore now, don't I?"

"Yes. He requested that you see him also. But not a word to Tamora."

Harry agreed and walked unescorted to Dumbledore's office. He muttered the password unconsciously, thinking constantly about the black dog. Maybe he had hallucinated. But then... how did Ravenwolf hear it? Something had happened then...

"Hello Harry. We've been expecting you," began Dumbledore with a welcoming smile. "I knew that it was best to wait until you had arrived. By the way, Tamora, this is yours I believe." Snivellus the parrot flew from his shoulder to the arm of her chair. "Your mail was returned before it could reach Tonks. And we received a note attached to the letter. Bellatrix Lestrange intercepted your parrot, and left us a single sentece: _'The Dark Lord will see an end to the disloyal families of Potter, Cambric, and Black.'_ Bellatrix was the only student at Hogwarts who knew the school better than Remus Lupin. She is coming to Hogwarts, and I'm afraid that she will not be alone.

"Tamora, no matter how much I deeply regret this, it is my only choice at the moment." Dumbledore's eyes showed worry beneath his half-moon spectacles.

"Regret what?"

Harry could tell that what Dumbledore was about to say would be highly important by the way his face had become creased with wrinkles of thought.

"I have just received news Peter Pettigrew. He has been seen walking about King's Cross Station at separate times of the day, attempting to open the portal to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. There aren't many ways to travel to Hogwarts, but the barrier is one of the most popular routes (as you may already know). And as I have just told you, Bellatrix is attempting to earn the trust of Voldemort by killing both you and Harry. If the two should ever meet or be sighted near the school, it would be far too late to protect you. Servants of Voldemort, though nowhere near as powerful as myself, will go to any lengths to destroy the surviving members of the 'disloyal' families. There are still some ways into the school that only his servants can enter. This is my first encounter with such magic that has _not_ involved Harry as the sole target.

"Tamora," said Dumbledore, interrupting his own conversation, "If you should ever be in danger, not only would I lose Remus' trust, I would never forgive myself for such irresponsibility. That is why I am making this choice _for_ you."

Tamora waited for him to answer, nodding in rapt attentiveness.

"My dear, the entire staff of this school as agreed unanimously to place you in the care of a trusted household for our short recess. (He held a hand up so that she would not protest.) Narcissa has agreed to let you stay in her home for the duration of Christmas break. It isn't safe for either of you at Hogwarts, Tamora."

"What about my home?!" snapped Tamora, raising her eyebrows. "And where will Harry stay"

Dumbledore spoke placidly, "You must understand; it is too dangerous. Lucius has been wandering about Grimmauld Place since Thursday last. The Malfoy estate is the only place that none will search. Lucius would never return home now. Harry will be staying in the home of Arthur and Molly Weasley. Both of the homes will be checked daily to ensure your safety. This is beyond all that we have ever experienced when dealing with Voldemort. Never has he known precisely how to attack without interference. I promise that you will be safe._ I am sorry_, Tamora. This was our only choice."

Tamora exhaled loudly, leaving Dumbledore's office. "Narcissa Malfoy, for god's sakes! Well at least that stuck up little warlock won't be there..."

"Tamora!" Draco's voice echoed. He ran up from behind her, "So, I've just heard that you chose to come to our home over the Christmas break." His heightened vantage point made Tamora feel much like a house-elf, having to look up at him from her mere five-and-a-half feet.

"I had no choice," she quipped frigidly. She held her books to her chest and picked up speed, trying to hint that he was the last person she wished to see.

"Well, my mum asked me to stay home for Christmas this year, so I'm respecting her wishes. We'll be spending Christmas together- the three of us, I mean," he said casually. Tamora pulled a piece of parchment from Draco's hand, reading it, watching his cheeks begin to flush a light pink.

"_Dear mum, there's been a change of plans, I'll be coming home for Christmas break this year. Don't be too surprised to see me walk through the door..._" Tamora looked up from reading. "...You want me alone with you! You are a cheeky little git, aren't you?"

"_Little?_" he scoffed, "As compared to _you?_ My vicious lady– of inferior stature."

"For a moment I thought you had a clever answer. But you've lived up to your reputation, Malfoy."

"You've stopped calling me Draco now? It's them, isn't it? The idiot Mudblood, the Weasel, and the ever-popular scar-headed fool. They've pitted you against me. You couldn't have picked worse friends."

"Yes, I could have."

"Oh? Enlighten me," he sneered, purposely getting very close to her. The effect had worn off, and she would be scared no longer.

"I could've shaken your hand on the train and made friends with you. But I've a much better sense of judgement than you think." She kissed his cheek (the one she had slapped months ago, he remembered) and stood in front of him. "I hope it will help you to melt that frozen heart of yours. Deep in your heart, wherever it may be, you know you're more than a spoiled little brat. You're very lucky I saw through you." Tamora continued down the hall, seeing only a brief glimpse of Draco holding his hand to his cheek.

"Merry Christmas," her voice reflected off of the walls, entering his mind as immediately as the words had been said. It was as if she had struck his face rather than kissed him. He stood with his mouth slightly open, taken and wounded at the same time. Someday, she would change him, though she wasn't sure how.

It occurred to him then that he hadn't been kissed by his parents that he could remember. Never... No, there was one time. It was when he told his mother that he'd accepted his father's decision to begin his training in dark magic for the death eaters. Only when he embraced evil was he able to be loved. It was horrendous. And yet a girl he'd only met this year could already show such affection he had never encountered before. Tamora had definitely struck a nerve, and she was trapped in his mind the rest of the day, and every day after.

_I turn off the light, and close the door, and there you are to open it again. you shed the light on all the things so dark. so dark before you were here. you're the nightlight to the darkened soul. recesses of my heart had been empty for so long, I forgot what it meant to care. my heart had stopped beating, and I felt so lonely, and then you were there. but then you were...there... you shattered the glass encasement that kept me so safe, so far... you brought in the danger to teach me that I was alive...there's so many things I'd taken for granted before... but then I betrayed you, and you showed me just one more... I'd taken for granted, the one thing that made me whole. the nightlight was gone, and I was a shell, and you were the star I never let go of your... light..._

A/N: I have made references to Ravenwolf, though I am the only one who caught it (and Wicca practicing people out there). ::rewinds story:: said a silvery voice from behind him. It was Ravenwolf. ::pauses story:: Haha silvery... Ravenwolf... Silver... Ravenwolf... ::cackles:: Woohoo! I'm just so dorky it doesn't even make sense anymore! There will be illustrations for this fic (and possibly another fic TBA) on Mediaminer. Woohoo! They will begin very soon, as soon as the songfic chapter appears (probably Chapter Nine). ::blasts Finch:: LIKE A BAD STAR, I'M FALLING FASTER DOWN TO HER... SHE'S THE ONLY ONE WHO KNOWS WHAT IT IS TO BURN!!! Page 84 in Word Perfect, baby, yeah!

Reviews, reviews. They are scarce. ::points at Lady Rumbottom:: There will be a new illustration for your fic if you actually update. ::growl::

Donnie- Yay you liked it! No! I refuse to call him Lupin! I'm the writer, I outrank you. So there! ::sticks out tongue:: Aww ya know I love ya. Hehe thanks for reviewing!


	8. Otto

_Chapter Eight_

Sunlight filled the boys' dormitories like an all-consuming fog. Today would not be a day for happiness. Not now that Tamora would have to spend her entire Christmas break with Malfoy. All that he had thought his Christmas would be was now scattered to the winds. Tamora wouldn't be there to celebrate with them. She would be spending the most warm and festive holiday of the entire year with the family that seemed to embody the exact opposite. He would have to mail her several times just to see if she was all right, and even then he would have to send Hedwig back and forth from the Burrow to the Malfoy Manor to deliver gifts (Pigwidgeon was far too small to carry the type of gifts he was going to send, except the occasional bag of Every Flavor Beans).

Harry dressed quickly, throwing on his Gryffindor scarf. He had to see Tamora before she left for the Malfoys'. Ron was already awake, surprisingly enough, and he was already gone. He looked for Hermione in the common room, only to find that she, too was missing. The dormitories were entirely empty. Maybe they were all wishing their friends a Merry Christmas down in the entrance hall.

Once he was out of the portrait hole, he ran down the grand staircase. When he was about to round the corner to the second floor staircase, he ran straight through Sir Nicholas.

"In some sort of a rush, Harry?" Nearly-Headless Nick asked.

"Yeah. I have to say goodbye to Tamora before she leaves."

"Oh, Tamora Black. I've seen her around here quite often late at night. That cat facade never fooled me, not for one minute."

"Nick," said Harry, "did you see a black dog running around last night?"

He stopped to think, stroking his chin inquisitively. His head nearly flopped on its fleshy hinge but he readjusted it and answered clearly. "I can't say that I did. But there was a man around when Peeves threw a candlestick at Argus Filch. A sort of ruffian with black hair."

Harry hid his excitement and thanked Nick, walking down the grand staircase to the first, then the ground floor. When he was in the entrance hall, the usually full hall was barren. Every Christmas it was packed to the rafters with friends wishing eachother a happy holiday, boyfriends and girlfriends saying goodbye for the Christmas break, and every so often, mistletoe. But today... nothing. Then, from the Great Hall doors appeared Ron.

"Harry, didn't you get the message last night from Dumbledore?"

"Yeah. I can't believe he trusts Narcissa to keep Tamora safe."

"No, no," Ron said, "the ice skating on the lake."

How did the wizards discover ice skating? "Ice skating's for Muggles...isn't it?"

"It's been getting more and more popular. I s'pose Muggles have finally invented something useful."

"So, where are we getting ice skates from?" Harry inquired, "Do they sell them in the wizarding world yet?"

"Yeah, they sell them at Hogsmeade, so Hagrid bought loads, almost double what we really need for all the students and teachers, and he's lending them to us. Dumbledore's declared a school holiday." How had Harry missed all of this in the half hour or less he had been gone? When he finally had gotten outside, the blinding white of the snow assaulted his eyes. The ground was covered with snow, and the lake with people.

The first people he noticed were Angelina and Lee enchanting eachothers' skates to fly while they were attatched to their feet. Then, he saw Cho, who had learned easily and now glided on the ice with incredible ease and grace. Then Parvati, slipping and falling, never getting a chance to rise from the ice. Lavender and Justin were having a race with Pansy while Luna spun in a circle on the front point of her right skate, defying all gravity. How they had learned so quickly was either due to their experience with balance on brooms, or a charm on the skates to make it impossible to fall. Even McGonagall skated by wearing red and gold earmuffs, Dumbledore wearing a royal purple.

Harry could see below the thick layer of ice that the squid still floated underneath the water, unaffected by the freezing cold. Its large eye darted menacingly from student to student as they skated above him. And then... Tamora was skating backwards past Harry with a wave. Malfoy sped up from behind Tamora and leapfrogged over her with a yell of "DUCK!" Once he was on the ice in front of her, he called out, "I knew I'd get to be on top of you at least once this year!"

"Just you wait, Draco. Next time you jump over me you'll lose a leg! Harry! Got your skates? It's quite simple, I don't know why the Muggles fall so much. I think Parvati's turning into a Muggle by the way she skates, or rather, doesn't skate. Neville's been beating them all at the races- even Pansy. So where have you been?"

"Sleeping. I didn't even know about this. How did you find out?"

"Oh. Dumbledore told me before he went into this odd sort of office and brought back Snivellus for me." It was a conspiracy. Had he been the only one who went uninformed? He had just finished lacing up his skates when Malfoy turned sharply, shredding some ice to powder in Harry's face. "_Oh sorry, Potter,_ I _meant _to grate the ice thin so you'd fall through. I wonder, it is possible for Harry Potter to drown, or does he walk right over the water like some sort of god?" Malfoy and the few intelligent friends he had laughed cruelly as Harry wiped the freezing cold water from his face.

"Draco, leave Harry alone," said Tamora, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Why? He was so prepared to duel before, weren't you, Potter? Talk about your parents and you throw a tantrum."

"Oh, and when I mention Lucius you try to slam me against the wall and kill me. You're a hypocrite of sorts, aren't you?"

"This isn't your fight, Tamora," said Harry. "But now that we are on the subject of you, I thought you'd made Malfoy much more docile than this. Had him fetching the paper at the end of last week, didn't you?"

This was the insult to end all insults. Malfoy- _docile?_ He wouldn't have it. "At least I'm not under the spell of someone who doesn't give a fig about me."

"Oh you're not are you? Tamora's had you hooked since the Sorting. But then again, you did make quite a disgusting display of kissing Cho under the mistletoe yesterday morning."

Harry could instantly see the look of revulsion and sadness on Tamora's face.

Draco must have noticed it, too, because he lashed out immediately. "That's just a jealous lie because you want Cho."

"You know what, Draco? I believe it. Because Harry wouldn't lie about it, he cares. _He has a heart._ Come on, Harry."

"A heart is nothing without the _power _to act on whatever it feels," hissed Pansy. "You're just too proud to admit that you're jealous of all the attention Draco gets."

"Hardly," Tamora, feeling quite ready to pounce on Pansy and let her fury be known. "If he wants to come off as an untrusted, conceited _liar _then it would suit him to fall in love with you, Pansy, not me." Her words cut deeper than anything he had ever heard.

"Shove off, Potter," Draco warned. Pansy laughed behind him, only to have it thrown in her face. "You too, Pansy. All of you. I need to talk with someone."

"Tamora–" Harry began.

"I'll talk. Harry, please. Just go."

Once they had all gone back to ice skating, Draco spoke. "I'm not going to beg you to go anywhere and talk, because I know talking always makes it worse when it comes us."

"Us?"

"You know what I mean," he snarled, "the only reason I wanted them to go away is because Slytherin has Quidditch practice. We have to report to the Quidditch pitch immediately."

"What if I do want to talk about _us?_" she whispered dangerously. He gave her a look of skepticism and let her speak. "What has been going on for the past day-and-a-half?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." He had noticed it too. They were getting along...

"The hell you don't, Draco. I suppose we just seem to work together better when there's a challenge. We're almost... friendly. It was sickening."

"I suppose there was something, if you say so."

"Don't be stupid. I know when you're acting."

"All right there was something. An odd something."

She scrunched her nose. "I sort of enjoyed that."

"Yeah...The question is, why?" Draco paused for a moment, then seemed to have his own thoughts. "Well, we do have a lot in common. Our fathers are dead to the world... mass murders, whether we witnessed the victims or the killers..."

"–Loneliness," said Tamora softly, "Want for love never received."

"Yes. But what does that have to do with ruining Trelawney's day?"

"Absolutely nothing. Those were our reasons for falling involuntarily into love."

Draco seemed to be in a state of intense confusion. "...Wh–" It defied words.

Tamora sighed. "Oh don't think of it like that. I was joking."

"Oh, right. 'Course you were." Draco forced a smile and seemed completely put off. He dispelled all of his thoughts and focused on the Quidditch practice. "We're not going to go through an entire game today. Just some passing and all that..."

"They don't like me, do they?" Tamora finally blurted out. Draco stopped walking and looked over at her. "Well they don't. I would even say they loathe me. The team, I mean."

"Well what would you say if someone could fill in for you and perform even better in your position that you do?"

"I would say 'fantastic!' and let them have mine. I can always play in another."

Draco laughed, "They wish it was that...simple. They're used to being good at only one thing, one position, all year. You're one of the only people, if not the only, who can alternate that easily. Their positions are threatened."

"Oh," she said thoughtfully, "that's why Slytherin's always so vengeful. The other houses are better at most things."

He grumbled to himself and walked onto the field.

"But- there's noone here..." Tamora said, summoning the crate of practice Quidditch balls.

"Yes I know." Draco opened the crate and took out one of dozens of golf balls. "Private practice today."

"What are you talking about?"

"I want_ you_, Tamora, to tell _me_, Draco, how to get the _Snitch_, like this here in my hand but with wings, at the upcoming game. Potter's got some type of strategy, and I want to know what it is. We can't lose this or Gryffindor automatically wins the Quidditch Cup."

"Oh! You want help."

"NO," he corrected, "I want to know how."

"Just admit that you want help and I will give you said strategy." Tamora smiled mischievously, hanging her arm on his shoulder and standing on her toes. She whispered in his ear to beat him at his own game. "Oh, poor, poor Tamora.. Draco doesn't want me anymore." She ran her tongue up the ridge of his ear sadistically.

He shuddered and pushed her off. "Just help me and be done with it!"

"Do you see how annoying your little tricks can be now?"

"Mount your broom."

"I left it in the common r- oh." Both of their brooms were set out in the snow. "Well aren't you too caring for your own good."

"I'm only doing this for _me,_" he said arrogantly, "not you. Slytherin needs a win."

"And that's why you chose to ask me for help over the Warrington, ah, now I understand. Wasn't he the one who they begged to be Seeker but he chose Chaser instead? Of course, it's no use to ask the expert instead of me..." Her criticizing tone reminded him of himself all too much.

"When I was in the common room earlier," he began, picking at a random twig on his broom, "I heard a girl screaming. Screaming in her sleep. Know anyone with nightmares? Because from what I've been told..." He placed the handle of her Firebolt in her open hand. "...you caused quite a disruption last night. Everyone was complaining this morning... that Tamora Black was crying, _whimpering_ in her sleep."

Tamora's eyes wandered to the ground and she muttered, "Who did you hear that from? Pansy?"

"All of the Slytherin girls. Why do you?"

"Why do I what?"

"Scream and cry in your sleep."

She shifted from foot to foot nervously, picking up her broom. "I have nightmares."

"Ordinary nightmares don't make you scream in your sleep. What's in these nightmares, then?" Draco actually looked a bit concerned among the strong traits of malice his face had permanently taken on. "...Tamora?"

Tamora mounted her Firebolt and pushed off hard from the ground, soaring over the wall in a loop, then stayed near the astronomy towers. She muttered to herself, staring down as the little dot picked up the little mahogany broom and began to rise into the air.

Malfoy met her at the astronomy tower. "If you don't want to tell me, fine. But I wanted to know what made you so afraid."

"So you could throw it in my face when you're angry again? I think not."

"Tamora just–"

"Why did you bring me out here?! And why were you and Remus missing at the feast last night?"

Honesty surely wasn't going to be the best policy. What was he supposed to say? 'Oh, your guardian that you love more than life showed me every memory he had of you.' He might as well tell her how his father had treated him every day of his life. Both were an impossibility. "I don't know where _he_ was. I was with Professor Snape preparing potion ingredients–"

"Oh please, Draco. For one day of your life, be honest."

"Teach me." He held the golf ball out. "We've only got an hour or two before everyone leaves for winter break."

Tamora took out her wand and summoned the Muggle volleyball that had been painted red. "Quaffle. We learn how to play Chaser first. It'll improve every position to learn them first."

"We've only got two hours," stated Malfoy. "_Two hours, _to learn this?"

"Then you'll have to catch on to this faster, won't you? This is a standard pass." She threw the Quaffle at him fiercely, and it flew past his head.

"What do you think you're doing?!"

"You didn't catch it. Try again." She summoned the 'Quaffle' and tossed it to him. "Are you ready this time?"

"Yes."

Tamora hovered before the hoops opposite him when he threw the ball as hard as she could. It careened with such speed towards her that when she caught it, it nearly knocked her through the left side hoop. "Excellent," she coughed, the sudden jolt had knocked the wind out of her. "Now you catch. I don't want to be killed, thank you very much."

Draco was extremely smug now that he had proved himself. The game was about to begin.

"Last time I'm asking. Are you ready?"

He nodded determinately and took his place. At that nod, she attempted to pelt him with the Quaffle. He caught it in one hand, locking his thumb in one of the indents on the side. "ANYTHING ELSE?" he yelled across the field.

"Be proud for now. We're onto Beater practice."

He wanted to ask tell her what he'd seen in the pensieve, he wanted to let her know that she wasn't alone. But that was impossible. She'd be angry with him, and Lupin. She'd hate him... more than usual. But what did he care?

"Tamora, I know."

She stopped in the process of summoning two clubs from the crate on the ground. "You know what?"

"...Everything."

"What do you mean, everything?"

There was a low hum of frenzied speech below them, and Tamora titled her head. "What in hell is... Look!" Reporters swarmed below them on the Quidditch field, as well as a large group of students still on their ice skates. A few of the reporters were holding up their newspapers and yelling for them to come down. They descended slowly, stopping just before the reporters could surround them.

"Tamora Black?" one of them called to her. "And Draco Malfoy?" Tamora nodded.

Malfoy narrowed his eyes and became curt. "Yes. What? We're in the middle of a Quidditch practice _if you don't mind._ Clear off."All of a sudden, the low hum increased to a roar.

"Tamora! What do you know of your mother's connection to the Malfoy family? What has caused the recent threats?"

"Do you mean to retaliate?"

"...Recent threats?" She stared at them without a clue as to what they were asking. They continued to badger her with questions, but finally she noticed what they held in their hands. Copies of the _Quibbler_, and a few tabloids (that she'd never heard of) hung from their hands; in the other hand, a camera. The first headline either of them noticed was "_MALFOY MAKES DEADLY PROMISE"_. Draco tore a copy from one of the reporter's hands and read it with Tamora.

_In the latest news on Lucius Malfoy's escape from Azkaban prison, _

_he has sent his first message to the Ministry of Magic. In an envelope_

_sealed with the Malfoy crest, he left this shocking statement. Quote:_

_The Dark Lord sends his message to Hogwarts. The Boy Who Lived_

_will this year die. Three bloodlines will finally meet their end._

_The Cambrics will perish with Tamora Black._

_End quote._

_Narcissa Malfoy, wife of Lucius, has refused to answer our questions,_

_and has yet to reply the inquiries of her son Draco's involvement in the_

_Death Eaters. It has been rumored that he was inducted to their clan,_

_and now the question on the lips of all reporters is:_

_What will Black's reply be to these threats- promises, rather, to put an_

_end to her life?_

_-Quibbler reporter Kriston Mandrille_

Tamora stood back and reread it. The reporters were growing more impatient by the minute. She saw Harry trying to sneak past the reporters with no luck, but he must have read the article by the look in his eyes.__

__"Mr. Malfoy!" a voice shouted over the others, "Have you indeed joined the Death Eaters? What is your stance in the fight against the Dark Lord? Is it entirely true that he has returned?!"

Malfoy took a step away from them, but they had already closed in, their questions lashing out at the both of them. Each demand struck a blow, and Tamora finally raised her voice above the cries.

"I have no answer for any of you! You can leave now, because you have wasted your time asking either of us questions!" They did not cease. There was no end to the questioning. In fact, the queries only grew...

"Miss Black- does the anger at your father's death force you to join with You-Know-Who? What will you do now that Lucius Malfoy seeks to kill you?"

"Mr. Malfoy, have you received any letters of instruction from your father?"__

__"Miss Black, in your opinion, where will He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named next strike? Do you believe that Lucius Malfoy will succeed in his attempts to find Mr. Potter and yourself?"

"Mr—"

"—Miss Black,"

"Will he attack at Hogwarts–"

"—Do you question the school's safety?"

Finally after at least a score of these incessant interrogations, Malfoy could see that Tamora was becoming bothered. They even dared to reach out and grab her shoulder and bring her in so that she could hear the question. Finally it had reached the point where there wasn't a beginning or an end to the sentences they heard. Draco pushed her behind him and held out his wand.

"You'll leave now. Or I'll kill you all. Whichever suits you." All had begun to write what he had said, but put down their quills when they realized his wand was drawn.

Harry stared from the crowd. What was Malfoy up to? He'd get himself expelled...

Tamora glanced timidly at the back of his head. "Draco what are you–"

"I am _ashamed_ of what our wizarding society has become," Dumbledore bellowed, commanding their attention. The crowd of reporters parted automatically for him to pass through. "Badgering students to answer such questions? And I had assumed the newspapers could stoop no lower than publishing a threat upon Miss Black's life. I am indeed appalled by your behavior. Leave the grounds of this school and publish _nothing_ you have heard from my students, or the Ministry will be the first to suffer my wrath. That you can quote if you like. I wish for your readers to hear something accurate, for a change."

The moment his talking had ceased, the silence still lingered, and every last reporter left, upon their brooms or through portkeys. Malfoy picked up one a portkey that was left behind and threw it against the side of the school.

"Mr. Malfoy... Tamora," said Dumbledore, "it is time that you leave."

"Headmaster," Tamora inquired, "how were they allowed through the barrier? I thought this school was well-guarded."

"The school is well-guarded, that is true," he answered, "but against only those who seek to harm. Dark witches, and warlocks. Their intent was not to harm, though they do tend to pester. Whomsoever can sell their newspapers... in this case, it was Mr. Malfoy and yourself. With your pictures upon the front page... Well, that's of no importance now. They may print _my _name..."

"Thank you," she smiled up at him. "I'll get my trunk then?" He nodded slowly and left his penetrating gaze upon Malfoy. "You'll be fine."

"Yes." She walked towards Draco with caution, trying to see his face. He was crouched low to the ground with a hand to his temple.

"...Draco?"

"You're a Cambric. The bloody Muggle-lovers..."

"Yes, my mother is Rosaline Cambric," she said with a hint of anger. "_Muggle-lovers?_ We saved innocent lives."

"Innocent lives or not, they're _Muggles,_ Tamora. Don't you see the fault in that?"

Tamora stooped down to meet his eyes. He refused to look at her, twiddling with a blade of grass between his finger and thumb. His face showed disappointment... lacked all happiness. It was as though he was lost in thought, but still present in the conversation. Tamora's gaze was enough to force him to meet her eyes. Finally she spoke. "Saving another life doesn't make my family traitors, Draco. Only to those who are devoid of their consciences. Their morals. Their compassion."

"That's why Sirius was erased from the Black family tree. Not because he ran away. Because he married a Cambric."

"Only half true." She sat on the grass beside him, though he still avoided any contact with her. "But what is this really? Oh... Lucius. He must have told you all about the Cambrics and how treacherous they were. Lies."

"I bet Sirius lied. Told you we're not a good sort of people to be around. But my father never lied. Not to me."

"Death eaters don't follow the path of righteousness or truth. Who knows how long he's been at the side of Voldemort?"

Draco flinched and rubbed his arm with a groan. Tamora tried to lift his sleeve.

"It's n-nothing, Tamora. Get off. Quidditch injury– GET OFF."

Tamora pulled his sleeve up to his elbow, her breath stole from her lungs. She recoiled, taking a few moments to find her voice. "...Oh, Draco. How could you?" The Dark Mark lay tattooed on his forearm in a deep hellish black. "I thought that the rumors were formed by... But I never thought... Why, Draco?"

"As if I had a choice," he snarled. "As if I was allowed to stop after the years of training and preparation to become one of Them. And why not? Why can't I have my share of the prize?"

"What _prize_ could come from killing?! I thought you knew better than to say something so stupid as that."

"What if it isn't stupid? What if I want to be one of them? What will you do?- _leave and cry and never want to talk to me again?_ Perish the thought."

"I thought I knew you, Draco Malfoy. I thought you were better than what everyone saw. For a moment, I even thought you actually..."

"Actually what? Loved you?" He laughed harshly with cold, serpentine eyes. His breath floated in the frigid air. "I suppose you thought wrong then, didn't you?" As she walked in the opposite direction with her broom across the field, he yelled after her. "_Love the chase. It's the same with every girl._ You were right, Tamora. Congratulate yourself, and your noble family. So noble they got themselves killed for a bunch of stupid Muggles." He almost choked on the words. Why was he doing this?

After only a few moments, he picked up his broom, banished the crate of practice equipment, and ran across the field to where she still trudged through the deepening snow. "You have to come to the barrier _with me._"

"I'll take my broom, thank you."

"With your trunk and that bloody parrot? I'd like to see you try."

"And you will. I'm not spending another moment with you."

Malfoy smiled in spite of her temper. "You don't have any choice. You have to spend the entire break in my home."

"Why can't I sleep outside? It's colder in your company than a night in the snow."

"Oh, honestly–"

"—And why do you seem to care?"

"I don't have a choice either. If I don't keep you safe, _Dumbledore will have my head. _Not that he would. He never kills. He's got _morals._"

"Why's it so awful that he'd have your head? The Death Eaters already have your soul. Or didn't you ever have one to begin with?"

"I see. You love Muggles too."

"No, but I love my family. And if they saw fit to take in Muggles, then the Muggles they took in were also decent people. And if they were decent people, then I see nothing wrong with saving them."

"You're not really a Slytherin then. Do you know what it means to be a Slytherin? To qualify for our house?"

"Of course I do! Tojurs Pour. Always Pure. The Black family tradition. I'm tired of tradition, Draco. My father knew that it was ludicrous. That's why he left and lived with James. And how did you know about Sirius being erased from the Black family tree?"

"I told you. Lupin showed me everything. Your father's, mother's, and your past. Everything he knew."

"Remus would never betray me. He would never give _you_ such private things."

"It wasn't a gift," Malfoy snarled, "and I didn't threaten him, not that it would do much good to get a... _him_, angry. I gave him a memory. My worst. You think that I'm that brash?"

"Yes."

"Well you're right." He made to pin her to the wall, but she swung her broom around and whacked his nose with the handle.

"Can't you be more original?" she sighed, hearing a yell pierce the air.

"You bloody wh–" He held his nose and forced the words into his mind again, choking on a bit of blood dripping inside his nose. The blood also seeped through his fingers onto the path, leaving a trail behind him.

"Say it. I _dare_ you." Tamora followed Draco through the long stone archway to the entrance hall doors. "...Are you...all right?"

"No- ya brode my bloo'y nose, _woman_," he could barely talk through the blood, and it pained him besides.

"Oh, keep playing the injuries to your advantage. Get girls that way, don't you?"

"Shuddup."

"What's that?"

"SHUT UP! –Ouch-...bloody woman..."

She lead him up to the hospital wing straight into the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey was just folding back the newly-cleaned sheet on the last bed when Malfoy and his bloody nose stepped through the door.

"No no no- over there. Getting all that blood on my fresh sheets... never in my life...Get a basin, will you, Tamora?" Tamora handed her a metal basin which Madam Pomfrey placed on his lap. "I'll get something to stop the bleeding..."

"Why do you always have to get me injured?" he said thickly, holding gauze to the bridge of his nose. "You're lucky I even talk to you after that. Cambrics. The Muggle-lovers. I bet whoever killed them had some fun with it."

Tamora raised her broomstick to ram it through his head when Madam Pomfrey ripped it out of her hands. "Not in here. If you want to kill him, you can't have a witness, and the school can't be held responsible. Poison his egg nog."

"Stop giving her ideas!"

"I don't like you, Mr. Malfoy. I'm dressing your wounds because I'm paid to."

"He's a Death Eater! Finish him off, Madam Pomfrey. You must have some poison that can kill something as repulsive as this one."

Madam Pomfrey gasped. "...What did you say?"

"I said he's a—" With one good swipe of the Firebolt, Madam Pomfrey and Tamora were both out cold on the floor.

"Women." He left Madam Pomfrey sliding off of the bed and slumped Tamora over his shoulder. He whispered a foreign incantation and held his wand to Madam Pomfrey's ear. Immediately she snapped into place on the bed. "What was I saying? Oh yes. Tamora get a basin- What happened?!"

"She was trying to get up and tripped over her broomstick. She'll be all right. Fix my nose now."

"Oh yes. Not severe, Mr. Malfoy. Barely a hairline fracture. Lean in here please. _Sanguias Iccare_." The blood immediately stopped flowing from his nose. "You're lucky I didn't reverse it. You'd have more than filled that basin."

Draco looked up at her in surprise, readjusting Tamora on his shoulder. "...You'd do that?"

"No. Can't. But if you really are a Death Eater, and I know you are because Tamora wouldn't lie, then I can turn you in. You can't go to Azkaban until you're seventeen, but they'll put you at the top of the list."

"What do I care?"

Madam Pomfrey glanced at him while she picked up the basin. "You don't care that you'll spend your life having happy memories sucked out of your mind?"

"It wouldn't affect me. Dementors are easy to get past. My father did."

"Whatever you say, Mr. Malfoy. But heed my words- if you put that girl in harm's way, you'll not only have to deal with expulsion, you'll deal with something much worse."

He laughed. "You?"

"No. Professor Lupin. Remus doesn't need the moon to lose control and kill you. He simply has to hate you." Madam Pomfrey gave him a towel for the blood caked onto his shirt. "Go on now, Draco."

Draco carried Tamora away in silence, her head hanging over his back. "Remus Lupin. He can't even save himself from his curse. Please. One good silver bullet will get _him_."

When he arrived in the entrance hall, Harry was waiting by the dungeon door.

"What do _you_ want, Potter?"

Harry took one look at Tamora and reached for his wand. "What did you do to Tamora?"

"Relax, Scar-head. She fell and knocked herself out."

"I don't believe you," he accused. "You did something to her."

"Yeah," Malfoy sneered. "And what if I did? What if I knocked her unconscious? What then? What if I hurt her? What if I raped her? _What if I killed her?_ Would it be Saint Potter to the rescue as usual?"

Harry's voice had no evidence of anger. "You can't win this with words, Malfoy. You wouldn't hurt her and I know that. I'm not a fool."

"Aren't you?"

Harry walked to the large double doors that lead to the grounds. "Dumbledore's sent the Hogwarts Express since so many are going home this Christmas. Apparently their parents are afraid that the school isn't safe with your father so close."

The doors swung open.

"And her luggage is–"

"In my pocket," Harry answered, the doors closing slowly behind him.

Nearly an hour passed before Tamora woke. Harry was sitting across from her, opening a Chocolate Frog. Ron was sleeping next to him, leaning against his trunk. Hermione was sitting beside Tamora. Harry glanced over at Tamora.

"Malfoy did something. I don't know what, but you were knocked out cold when I saw you. Is he really a Death Eater?"

Tamora thought on this and decided to lie. "I...don't know." The compartment doors were wide open, and the murmurs from surrounding compartments made a low buzzing sound. She could hear clearly the wheels of the food cart about ten compartments back. "Do you want any food? The cart will be here soon."

Harry threw her a bag of Every Flavor Beans and shook his head. "We've already bought food. Help yourself."

"Where is the great lummox now?"

Ron groaned with his eyes closed. "Don't know. He can't be far... You should really tell Dumbledore to make sure someone sits near him on the train. Maybe a dementor or two..."

"I thought you were sleeping, Ron," Harry said.

"No," he answered bitterly, "I don't want to look at _her_ for the entire trip home."

Tamora rolled her eyes. "Can't you call it a truce already?"

"Never!" they both yelled. They simultaneously made for the door to the compartment, but found that they couldn't run in opposite directions if they were both blocking the door. Ron opened the compartment door. "Ladies first."

"Go ahead then."

Ron glared at her and walked away. Hermione considered going back into the compartment, mumbled something about the bathroom, and walked the other way past compartment doors.

Harry heard something different in Tamora's voice, something sad when she sighed. "Thought he actually loved me for a moment there. Isn't that... Isn't it funny? People can surprise you sometimes..." Her voice trailed off and she forced a smile. Fake happiness, Harry thought. She's furious with him. How can she be smiling? "Harry, you were right. He's a ba–"

A paper airplane sailed into the open compartment door and landed on the seat. Tamora picked it up, and automatically it began to unfold. There were two words scribbled inside. "I do." Then, the parchment folded itself into an origami flower. Tamora smiled lightly, then hung her head outside of the compartment. In the compartment directly behind her, the door was wide open. Malfoy sat with his arms folded in the seat nearest the door, legs propped up on the seat across. With an odd smile locked into place, he nodded cooly. Tamora scowled at him and popped her head back inside.

"Bloody Slytherin... cheeky... evil..." The rest of her words were barely audible, but still quite interesting. Harry saw her doodle something onto a piece of paper, then fold the paper a few ways. She then unfolded it and folded it into an airplane, and whispered, "Malfoy, Draco. Kamikaze." The paper airplane soared when she released it, zipping out of the compartment. Not two seconds later, there was a yell from the compartment behind them. Harry craned his neck to see that the plane had crashed itself straight into Malfoy's forehead. Then, in his lap, it unfolded and showed a picture. A person, labeled "You", was shown falling to his death in several different ways, first death being another doodle (labeled "Me") pushing him off of the astronomy tower.

Malfoy's compartment door closed with a slam.

"Who'd you learn to do that from?" Harry laughed.

"Draco."

"...You talk to him still?"

"No. Just a few times before. It gets boring in Flying class. Everyone's so slow."

Not five seconds after she had spoken, Malfoy stalked into the compartment and sat down rigidly next to Tamora.

"Go back to your compartment or I'll send you something less pleasant."

"What do I do to deserve this... this..."

"Shit?"

"Yes!"

"Added bonus. Still love me?"

Nothing deters a Malfoy, he thought. "Yes."

"How about a hex? Still love me?"

"NO...YES... I don't... Fine I'll go back, you sodding... Argh."

Harry applauded. "He didn't even finish a sentence."

"Thank you, thank you. All you have to do is become female, Harry. Any girl who's better than him at Quidditch can shut him up. I'll be back. Trying to get _those_ two back in the same enclosed area together... this may take some work..."

Harry fell asleep for an hour or two, placid and dreamless. It was the first time in many years. Then... A violent, blood-curdling scream. It wasn't his mother... It wasn't her voice. He caught a flash of blonde hair, then a sinister laugh. That laugh he _did_ recognize, however. That was the laugh of a Death Eater. That was the laugh of a Malfoy. Lucius. Another flash. A black cloak this time. And another. Blood. A body steeped in blood. Then a flash of silver hair. Fangs. Something was feeding. Someone was in agony. The scream died on the lips of a woman in the dark. He could hear the fanged creature suckling on someone's neck. Eyes, glowing in the blackness of the void. Amber eyes he knew well.

Harry yelped and forced himself into consciousness. Who was killing? Why was Malfoy there... and who was screaming? He rubbed his eyes, as if to wipe the images from before his eyes. But they were there... Finally he could feel his legs again. When he gained his awareness, Harry saw the compartment was empty. "Where are...?" Hermione walked in.

"Hello Harry. _He_ went to see _her _off before _she_ leaves for the Malfoy manor." By voice inflection alone he knew that Ron was saying goodbye to Tamora. Harry leapt from his seat, heading for the nearest exit. He had to say goodbye before she left for the worst Christmas of her life. Harry barreled down the iron stairs. _One, two, three_ he counted. Now he was there. And so was she.

"Tamora!" Harry called. She turned around and waved. He caught her in mid-sentence, locking his arms around her.

"Don't worry," he whispered. "If Malfoy bothers you in the least I'll come kill him."

"You won't have to," she answered, "I can kill him myself, thank you."

Harry stepped back and nodded.

"I don't want you over there for Christmas," Ron said with a disappointed exhale. "It's not right, Dumbledore sending you over to his cold mansion with all those dark arts."

"It's better than your hubble, Weasel," Malfoy hissed from behind them. Ron met his gaze with a threatening glare. "Dumbledore must be afraid that Tamora won't be _fed_ living on your father's salary. Going to sleep on their kitchen table, Potter? Or don't they have separate rooms for sleeping and eating? Like animals, I'd say." He smiled to see Ron's fist clench.

"Oh shut your mouth before I erase it from your face," Tamora growled in annoyance. "Harry I just wanted to thank you for bringing my luggage. Have you seen my broom?"

"No, Tamora. I... I didn't know you had it." Harry felt a bit of guilt. He'd left her broom... Draco opened his palm to reveal a tiny broomstick with even tinier gold letters glinting on the handle. It was a Firebolt, no doubt.

"...Thank you," she grumbled, snatching it from his hand.

He smiled wickedly at her, not letting her eyes away from his.

Tamora tilted her head. "Wipe that smile off of your face, won't you? Doesn't it hurt that fracture in your nose at all?" Harry now smiled, finally noticing that Tamora must have broken his nose. A piece of gauze was taped to the bridge, and the skin around the bandage was a bit black and blue

"Think you're witty, do you?" Malfoy sneered, swaggering up to her.

"I like to think so, yes."

"Oh, and that bloody werewolf of yours gave me a message."

Tamora nodded. "Go ahead. Tell me then."

"He can't be here to see you off. Probably shedding somewhere... beast of burden..."

"What _he_ said. Without comments from the village idiot, thank you."

He broke his gaze only a moment. "He won't be here to see you off. Got something to do. He'll send you a letter and a Christmas gift. Oh. And this was from me."

Tamora gave him her hand, letting him give her a small silver medallion with a black leather chain. It was Remus' amulet. Her eyes widened. "He's not using it?! But he'll be in pain. Oh god... You saw him this morning. What happened to him? Where was he? Draco, tell me where he is!"

"Wish I could." There was fake remorse in his voice. But did anyone really expect remorse from him? "I swore I wouldn't tell. Have a Merry Christmas in the poor house, Potter. Maybe you can buy their family some decent clothes." He stalked away. "Come along, Tamora."

Harry felt Tamora embrace him. "I promise I'll be careful around this one. Besides, he's a coward. He knows when I say I'll kill him, it's true."

"Oh enough of the lovey-dovey codswallop. Let's go. Or would you like to marry your 'brother' before you leave?"

Tamora answered with her head still on Harry's shoulder. "Shut _up_, you miserable git. I'll be there in a moment... Goodbye, Harry. I promise that I'll hurt him for you."

"...Thanks, Tamora." That was possibly the nicest thing anyone had ever said to him. Harry watched Tamora walk through the barrier, and smiled. "This Christmas might not be the end of the world after all."

A/N: Hm... I love Slytherin. So evil. So hot. Coming up next: Christmas at the Weasleys'', Christmas dinner at the Malfoy manor, Songfic chapter, and quite an interesting gift...

Reviews.

Lady Rumbottom- Yes, I know. Keep them apart. As if I'd let them stop arguing. I think you know me better than that. Bwahaha.

Oh, and check out my fanart on ! My name is 'sparrows angel'. There's some from "The Fine Line Between Love and Insanity" there, too.


	9. Nove

_Chapter Nine- Another Fine Afternoon_

Mrs. Weasley was already making dinner when Harry and Ron walked through the door. "Hello dears! Harry, how are you? Good? Good! And that Tamora girl?"

"She's fine for now, but..."

"I heard she's been doing a lot of hexing lately," George said, putting his hand on Harry's head and mussing his hair. This was a futile attempt, being that Harry's hair was chronically untidy. "How ya doing, Harry? We've been following the local Hogwarts news since September. Heard you almost killed Malfoy."

"And that you and Malfoy knocked out half of the school–"

"–And Tamora's Keeper for the Slytherin Quidditch team!"

"Hey I was going to say that one, George."

"Is Tamora available Harry?"

Harry could barely fit in a word, "Well–"

"Yeah, for me, Harry–"

"–Lay off, Fred!"

"Is she really an Animagus, Harry?"

"–Erm.."

"Did she really break Malfoy's nose–"

"–And save your life with that bludger–"

"–Hey I'm asking the questions!"

"–Come on, tell us about her, Harry—"

"Yeah, everything!"

"BOYS!" Mr. Weasley yelled from across the room, soon lowering his voice. The twins were frozen with their mouths open. "Now- Fred, George- I'm sure Harry will be glad to answer your questions as soon as you give him the chance."

Harry began to explain while Mrs. Weasley finished making dinner. Ginny and Hermione discussed "girl matters" (as Mr. Weasley often said) quietly amongst themselves. Ginny no longer glanced at Harry admiringly, or stared with fright when he entered the room. She was... different. Mature, in a way. She'd grown up. And he missed the awkward little girl trailing after him.

"Wonder where Tamora is now," Ron said to Harry, sitting down in the living room. He opened a Quidditch magazine to the Chudley Cannons article. Two new Beaters for the team were sailing around the text, hitting the other teams' Beaters with their clubs. Ron started at cutting the article out when the team captain shrieked (Ron had nearly cut off her arm).

"She's probably already there. I'll send Hedwig with a note. I have to find out if she's all right..." Harry took a piece of parchment and a quill from his robes and charmed the quill to dictate. "Dear Tamora –new line here—" The quill hopped to the next line and waited for more dictation. "Hope you got there all in one piece– scratch..." the last line disappeared, "...I hope you are well, and that you are comfortable as you can be in the Malfoys' home...–scratch– estate— scratch!— mansion." Finally, pleased with the word, he picked up the quill and scribbled his name below "Much love". Some how, sentimentality was new, but easily acquired.

Harry walked to Hedwig, who was perched on the windowsill. She nibbled at the note as he attempted to tie it to her leg, then gave up. She pushed off from Harry's hand, sinking her small talons into his hand. Only indents were left, and no harm done. The note was now sailing towards Tamora on the leg of his snowy white owl.

At the moment, Tamora, too, was sailing through the air, free-falling and diving with ease. Her Firebolt was a bit slower than Draco's, but still an asset. She flew through a storm cloud, lightening striking only a few yards away.

"Stop playing around, Tamora— get down here!" Draco was cross, but he was right. Playing games with the elements wouldn't end well.

The rain was falling in sheets, drenching them both as the fog thickened. "Let's go! There it is." He pointed to something that resembled a palace more than a home. "Come down to twenty feet, it's getting hard to see."

Tamora nodded, staring at the cold, uninviting place she would spend Christmas in... What was worse, she would spend it with the coldest, most uninviting people. Her father had warned her about this place, this family, and what exactly Lucius would do if he found a Black living in his house...

But Lucius was far away (or was he?), never to be seen by ordinary wizards. He threatened Tamora's life, but she was sure he had no awareness to Dumbledore's plans.

"Draco- WATCH—" At Tamora's yell, Draco swerved past a tree almost invisible in the dense fog.

They flew to the doorway, carrying their brooms inside. Draco flicked his wand, and the door shut behind them, locking immediately. "That... was fun."

"You know what fun is? I'm surprised. You never have fun in public. Would it ruin your reputation as an irrepressible clod?"

"Oh _shut your gob_," he snapped angrily. "Do you always insult me this way because you enjoy it, or because _Saint Potter_ has made you used to it?"

"That _saint_ is the closest thing to a brother that I have, thank you. And yes, it _is_ out of enjoyment." She threw her broom to him at the speed one cracks a whip. Tamora groped through the darkness, wiping her feet on a black fur mat she felt at the door. "What kind of welcome mat is this?"

"That would be my cat, Beelzebub..." As Tamora stepped off of the cat, Draco bellowed "OFF!" and pulled her out of the way. The cat breathed a three-foot stream of fire dangerously close to them. Tamora's skin was seared on her forearm, and she winced.

"You and your bloody cat..."

"If you hadn't stepped on it..."

"...If _you_ had warned me—"

"—_Warned you? _'Oh and Tamora, darling, don't wipe your dirty disgusting feet on my cat on the way in!'"

"I wish I'd never come to your house."

"Want me to make that wish _come true?_ It'll only take a minute."

"Just... Leave me alone, Draco. I don't want to be here any more than you want me to be here."

"Who said I didn't want you here?" He leaned in and placed his head on her shoulder, laughing at the way she cringed and shuddered. "Revolted and left wanting? Love's a pip, isn't it?"

"You can't frighten me anymore, Draco. And if you call _this_ love, then you've made a terrible mistake."

Draco whispered, "lacarnum inflamare" lighting the oil lamps in the chandeliers. Suddenly the room was revealed, if something so grand could be called a room. It was desolate, even with all its finery, due to the lack of love and the precision of all things in their place. The chandeliers hung from the apexes of the ceiling, which seemed to be twenty feet or more. The green flames in each oil lamp cast an eerie glow on the entire room.

"Isn't anything in your home _normal?_"'

"No."

"Hm."

The rugs (all fur, she noted) were deep black, much resembling the cat she had just accidentally stepped on, but bigger. One area rug spanned half of the room, the other only covered the area by the fireplace. The fireplace itself looked as if it had not been lit in a while, the pokers on the rack— immaculate. Not a speck of ash or a chip of wood from urging flames out of logs.

While walking deeper into this labyrinth of a home, she saw several spiral staircases. Just the sight of them beckoned her to climb the steps into worlds unknown. The entire home was draped in fantasy, a bit too much even for a witch. And everything- purely Slytherin colors- save the blood-red corner of the room that had been painted so.

"What's that?"

"Blake. He sits there to play his music, and he said his artistic license gave him permission to separate himself from us. Since he couldn't do that very well, he separated a section of the room that was all his own. Terrible red paint."

"I love it..." she said half-heartedly. "I don't know why you don't. It's beautiful. Brings this room to the world of the living." Tamora pointed to the winding marble staircase closest to her. "Where does that lead?"

"Bedrooms. Go ahead... I'll follow you."

She ascended a winding marble staircase, black and steep, spiraling almost into infinity. The end was a large, dark hallway, doors to the right and left. She'd had dreams like this, and they were terrifying... Did she really belong in this house? Tamora approached the first door, hoping that Draco had only one fire-breathing feline...

She shrieked. Something had grabbed her 'round the waist. Then, Draco's laughter. "Draco you fool. You scared me half to death."

"Should I try for the other half?"

"Shut up." She stomped into the first room, but ran straight out again when a roar echoed. "What do you have in these rooms!"

"That's a lion statue. It always does that to intruders. Have a look for yourself." Sure enough, as Tamora peeked in the door, she saw a lion statue that sat menacingly on its pedestal.

"Lion? Are you a Gryffindor, Draco?" Tamora laughed at the lion as it recognized her. Draco flicked his wand, the lion roaring loudly again. "It only scared me once. How do I... become its friend?"

"I decide its friends and enemies."

"Oh really?" She shot a charm directly at the lion's head, and it ricocheted off of the walls, staying in the room when she slammed the door shut.

"Yes." He pointed the ebony wand at the door again. "Really." The lion stopped roaring, leaving silence to deafen Tamora. An awkward silence she couldn't escape... it was doing more harm than any of his words ever could have.

"This way," Draco breathed, leading her by the wrist. The hallway was dank and obviously very rarely occupied.

"Draco I can't sleep in this terrible place..."

"Try." he muttered stiffly.

"It's just... oh I can't sleep all alone down here."

"Would you rather I slept with you?"

"No."

"Well then?"

"Where's your bedroom?"

"Would you care to sleep in there with me then?"

"No! God, is that all you ever think about, Draco?"

"...You brought it up."

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Did not—"

"—Here's your room." He opened the door with a loud creak, revealing a large, lavish bedroom. A small bed sat in the corner, draped in a gigantic Slytherin quilt (crest and all- silver, dark forest green...). The pillows seemed to have been fluffed rather violently (Dobby?), and the room must have been unoccupied for quite a long time, though there were no cobwebs to conclude this much. The hangings and the area rugs all reflected the same black, silver and green. An ebony lamp with a silver shade sat in the corner on a small table— its dangling beads, in actuality, were emeralds. Everything, pristine (almost sickeningly so), and perfectly put together.

"This is my room?"

"Yes," he casually remarked, checking for dust (though he found none). He worked his way around the room, inspecting everything as Tamora followed him in wonder. A desk to the left, ebony again, and hand-crafted it seemed to the eye. Much care and detailing went into every piece of furniture, and with this, Tamora was obviously impressed. But to admit this to Draco was incomprehensible. "I thought you'd have me locked in the basement."

"We have no basement."

"But I saw a door in the—"

"—They...are...dungeons." He let her take pause, then said, "There are too many dangerous things here, and you're too curious. Stay out of death's doorway, will you? The last thing I want is Dumbledore on my tail."

Draco knew what she would reply. _Oh and that's all I mean to you?_ But she didn't reply. Not a word. Not a sound. Not an implication of her sadness. After several minutes of silence, finally it was broken.

"This is going to be a dreadful Christmas," she said with a sigh. Tamora didn't know she had been overheard, and flashed a false grin. "It's lovely. I'm going to change out of these clothes, so..." Still drenched, she realized how she must be ruining the carpeting in the room. But what did she care?...

"I'll turn my back."

"You'll _leave the room._"

"...I'll leave the room. Right..." Where were his manners? Maybe he left them at the door with his now-muddy fire-breathing cat from hell.

"Draco..." He heard Tamora calling from behind the door.

"Tamora?"

"Yeah hold on... erm... I have to ask. How _did_ your cat learn to breathe fire?"

"Blake," he said wryly. "My cousin. Originally, the cat was named Blake. But when my cousin was born, I made fun of him, and he was angry... to say the least. He charmed the cat to breathe fire then protected the spell— made it irreversible. Smart one, my cousin. After that, the cat's name was Beelzebub."

"I must meet this cousin of yours."

"You will. He's coming with the other bloody half of the family sometime tonight."

Tamora stepped out of the door. The astonishment on her face was truly priceless.

"Tonight!"

Draco laughed, "Yes. And you can lock yourself up here in your room for all I care."

"No," Tamora said curtly. "_No_, I'll meet them. Hopefully Blake is more handsome and courteous than you. But knowing your family... He probably looks something like my Uncle Regulus did; I'll bet Blake's covered in hair from his back to his legs and hideously ugly. Rude, as well. Not like my uncle in that way. My uncle was polite. Unlike your family- cold, harsh people. Death Eaters, the lot. Nothing worse than that."

The wounds cut deeper than Tamora had expected. Draco's hostile lashing out surprised her. "Your father probably told you that lie— about Death Eaters. I'll bet your father lied about everything he ever told you. A criminal, a common criminal. Killed his own wife in a duel."

Tamora shoved Draco as hard as she could, flinging him against the wall outside of the bedroom. "My father DID NOT kill her! PETER PETTIGREW KILLED MY MOTHER. YOUR FATHER MURDERED HUNDREDS IN HIS DAY, SO SHUT YOUR BLOODY MOUTH."

"You know nothing about this," he snapped, the harshness in his voice making her tremor with rage.

"I HATE YOU."

It had been so sudden. Lips locked in heated silence as Tamora clutched at the back of Draco's neck. He trembled, and suddenly his arms were limp at his sides. A mixture of shock and passion had kept him silent and docile for several minutes. Just until he heard a screeching voice...

"DRACOOOO COME HELP ME WITH THESE THINGS I'VE BOUGHT! DRACOOOOOO!"

He tore his lips away from hers, gasping for air.

Tamora looked at him with utter disgust, and he back at her.

"UGH."

They stomped off in opposite directions, muttering about how disgusting the experience had been.

"Terrible kisser–"

"–Bad breath.."

"...Can't believe I–"

"Why'd I let her–"

"–This won't ever happen again, you know that, don't you, Draco?"

"Absolutely. Never speak of it again."

"Never wanted something that vile to happen as long as I lived."

They kept walking in opposite directions, like grade school children, bickering all the way.

_A/N: Long time no see, Harry Potter fans. I've been updating many, MANY stories, and I've had very little time. Of Friendship, Of Fate, the Spiderman fic, is keeping me VERY busy, as well as Mother Moon. I'm also looking to a sequel to the one-shot "A Different Kind Of Hate."_


	10. Dieci!

_Chapter Ten_

With Christmas approaching fast, Harry could think of nothing else but the Formal Ball. Just after they returned, he would face Cho again, to discover her exact feelings. Ever since the argument last year at the Hog's Head, she'd been rather quiet and uninterested. He often noted her sneaking glances at him and questioning his Quidditch friends; but he, too, had taken a vow of silence. She faded in and out of his mind, floating through his memories like an apparition. He thought of her as he thought of his parents- a flowing shape of light, and smoke. He remembered her like a victim from Voldemort's wand. The kiss, his first, had been memorable, but truly, he had no care for love at the moment. He thought of Tamora now, and Malfoy, and just how miserable she could be.

Mrs. Weasley sat down on a chair by the window. Ron was very obviously bothered that his mother had joined their conversation, even if it was simply sitting down in the same area. Harry hoped that Ron wasn't still upset about Madam Malkin's when Draco threatened them. His mother had only done what she thought was best... But somehow, he knew Ron was still angry about that, too. But again Harry thought about the dreaded Christmas, and how he wished for Tamora to stay with them in the Burrow... All sadness combined made his own Christmas seem rather bleak, and he sighed sadly.

"Don't worry Harry- cheer up! She's fine." Hermione tried her best to comfort Harry, but it was hopeless. "You remember what she did to Draco's nose? She can take care of herself."

"Not around that fool. He'll kill her. He's a Death Eater."

"What?" Harry said, looking up suddenly.

"He's a Death Eater. My Dad told me."

Mrs. Weasley cut in (rather loudly). "Ronald Weasley! Didn't your father just tell you not to spread these rumors!"

"Well you wouldn't be angry if they were ru–"

"—Not another word! That's strictly Ministry business. If they decide to tell any of these things to the wizarding world, let _them_ tell everyone!"

Hermione attempted to cut in, "But, Mrs. Weasley–"

"Hermione," she said, struggling to be calm.

"Children," said Mr. Weasley authoritatively. "Let's just say these rumors _are_ true. Not that they are... But... _If_ they were. One person tells another, tells another, etcetera and so on... If this gets back to the Minister's ears, they'll put Draco Malfoy in a prison for minors- and eventually, Azkaban..."

"–that was the idea..." Ron started with a grin. Harry could tell he was imagining Malfoy locked in Azkaban, surrounded by Dementors. It was quite a pleasant thought, though Harry admitted to himself that no one deserved such horror. Well, almost no one... The amazing bouncing ferret might've already earned his place.

"...Ron," Mr. Weasley continued (though Harry could tell that Mr. Weasley thought it a good idea too), "if Draco's placed in some prison, his father will come looking for him- with all the Death Eaters, maybe even with... You-Know-Who."

"Wait," said Harry, mulling this over. If Fudge didn't know... "Why would the Minister lock Malfoy away?"

"The Minister's not a brave one, is he, Dad?" George broke in.

Fred answered, too. "Kind of a ninny. Fears for his own life, I'll bet."

"With good reason!" Mrs. Weasley said. "Don't know what they were thinking... Putting Tamora Black in the home of a Malfoy!" Mrs. Weasley stood opposite her husband, eyeing them all. "That poor girl will be killed if she's found out. If Lucius Malfoy ever finds her in his home..."

"...He won't." Harry was resolute. He would do something he never thought possible. "Mr. Weasley, couldn't Dumbledore hide Tamora away, and have me be her secret keeper?"

Among the stunned faces, there was a moment of silence to consider... then... A sudden outburst of noise assaulted Harry's eardrums. Everyone but Ron and Fred seemed to think this was an absolutely terrible idea. The clamor increased by the second, Ron and George argued, then Fred and George, then George and his mother, then Ron and his mother and father, until the arguments seemed to mesh into an symphony of annoyance.

"WAIT!" Hermione yelled. "Let's get this in order. _Please!_" She parted Fred and George, hoping Mr. and Mrs. Weasley would follow the example. And so they did. Mrs. Weasley held up her hand and muttered to Hermione to continue. "Thank you, Mrs. Weasley. Now," she began. "Though I would never have dreamed this... Please, let's hear what everyone has to say."

"Really, Mum," Fred bickered, "I don't see what good this will do. Harry's still going to decide for himself, now, isn't he?"

"But he just...can't! Honestly, Harry... Please don't. It's not practical!" Mrs. Weasley's sudden loss of authority in the situation startled her. She looked desperate to change his mind.

"I'll bring it up with Dumbledore, then decide." Harry could feel the tension in the room ease as he brought up Dumbledore. Hermione especially favored his decision– she'd suggested going to the Headmaster about any and all of Harry's troubles since their first year at Hogwarts.

Mrs. Weasley changed the subject quickly. "So– let's decorate the tree- I've got some new things this year. Come with me, won't you, Hermione?" She took Hermione upstairs to the attic to get decorations while Fred and George resumed bickering.

"Harry should be secret keeper—"

"—You git- Voldemort will beat it out of him. Then I'd never be able to date Tamora!"

"_You!_ Not if I get to see her first!"

Taking into account the fact that neither Fred nor George had ever _seen_ her before, Harry was quite amused. Hermione and Mrs. Weasley reentered with spray cans of some sort, ornaments, candles, and garland.

"Well you won't like her," Ron lied to the twins. "She's ugly— must weigh at least four hundred kilos. Smells a lot. Not nice at all..."

"Like we'd ever believe you, little brother," Fred laughed. "I bet she's gorgeous..."

Hermione scoffed, but only Harry and Ron had heard. Ron, basing his life on irritating her (mutual irritation, actually), spoke up. "What's wrong, Hermione?" He paused until she was listening. "Something's wrong. Oh wait- are you _jealous?"_

Now the scoff was almost a laugh. "Of what? That _thing _that chases after Draco?"

"She does not!" Ron defended, angry at the very thought. The nostrils at the end of his long nose flared, and he stepped in front of her. "He's the one running after her and you know it."

"Do I really?" Hermione said, testing his patience. "Why do you think she agreed to go to Malfoy's _mansion _this Christmas?"

"She had no choice," said Harry. He soon regretted this, because now her fury was upon him. He had officially chosen his side in the argument...

"_Oh?_" said Hermione, her face reddening a bit. "Really? Not quite what I saw in Divination this year. Walking into class late together, covering eachother's stories, making alibis. She's not exactly resisting him, is she? Soon she'll think we're all total scum. Start calling Ron _Weasel_ and you _Saint Potter_. And me- ha! She won't even remember who we are after she falls in love with that clot. You'll see. She'll—"

"STOP IT. Just stop it, Hermione! Stop ruining Christmas by saying terrible things about Tamora. You're jealous and that's that. Just STOP."

"Ron, don't talk to Hermione like this. She's your friend!" Mrs. Weasley was increasingly agitated by Ron. Ron, standing with his jaw nearly falling from his face, was full nearly to the boiling point. "Now if you don't apologize you'll have to miss out on decorating the tree this year."

"GOOD! Rather miss out than spend another minute near _her!_ AND I WON'T APOLOGIZE. _It's her fault._ Tell that jealous _wench_ to apologize, why don't you?" He stomped up the stairs quickly, leaving outrage in his wake. Then, something miraculous happened. Hermione dashed into the kitchen, hiding her eyes. She was... crying. Harry could hear the faint sobbing, and knew they both needed to be left well enough alone.

"RONALD WEASLEY! GET BACK HERE!"

"–Mrs. Weasley..." Harry intervened. "...Just let him go, please."

So, Harry and Mrs. Weasley were left to hang obscure little ornaments on the lopsided tree, and a very lonely afternoon followed. Near the end of decorating the tree, Mrs. Wealsey pulled her wand from her pocket, enchanting little candles to hover above some of the tree branches. Then, Harry noted the spray cans. He picked one up, reading the label.

_Geri Garlen's Famous Fantastic Flawless Flames– never ignite your Christmas tree again! Non-flammable flames burn bright without setting your tree (or your forelimbs) on fire. WARNING: Do not ingest, spray in eyes, or do anything else ridiculous with this product. You **will** obtain injuries. Just... don't... do it. You'll thank us later._

Harry stared at the product as Mrs. Weasley absentmindedly put the spraying side of the container in the direction of her eyes. It was so dark in her corner of the room that he just barely saw it himself. "Mrs. Weasley!" He pulled the container from her hands. "...I'll do it. Erm... Take this one. Point it that way."

It would be a very quiet evening, and a disheartened Christmas. He almost wished to be with the Malfoys and Tamora than be caught in the middle of this...

_A/N: Want to thank everybody who sent the new reviews! YOU GUYS ROCK!_


	11. Undici

_Chapter Eleven_

_(A/N: I have to explain the same day that Harry just went through, but now at the Malfoy manor. If I didn't then it wouldn't make sense. Okay then! Let's start with a few lines from the last section in the Malfoy manor and continue from there.)_

It had been so sudden. Lips locked in heated silence as Tamora clutched at the back of Draco's neck. He trembled, and suddenly his arms were limp at his sides. A mixture of shock and passion had kept him silent and docile for several minutes. Just until he heard a screeching voice...

"DRACOOOO COME HELP ME WITH THESE THINGS I'VE BOUGHT! DRACOOOOOO!"

He tore his lips away from hers, gasping for air.

Tamora looked at him with utter disgust, and he back at her.

"UGH."

They stomped off in opposite directions, muttering about how disgusting the experience had been.

"Terrible kisser–"

"–Bad breath.."

"...Can't believe I–"

"Why'd I let her–"

"–This won't ever happen again, you know that, don't you, Draco?"

"Absolutely. Never speak of it again."

"Never wanted something that vile to happen as long as I lived."

They kept walking in opposite directions, like grade school children, bickering all the way.

Narcissa Malfoy hurried through the door with a small, scared-looking house elf by her side. Narcissa carried only a few bags, the house elf carrying, or dragging, the latter. Six or seven bags weighed the poor elf down as it tried to walk. "This way. _Hurry up_, will you?"

The house-elf squeaked apologies and trudged on, bag handles cutting into its small hands and wrists, leaving painful marks and scratches.

Draco descended, skipping steps to get to his mother a bit quicker. "Mum. What're we going to do with all of the guests if Tamora has one of the bedrooms?"

"We'll remedy it...somehow. There will be plenty of room. Help me with these, dear." He picked up the two bags, and a single package from the elf's heavy burden. "Couldn't we get a second house elf, Mum? The mansion's big enough, we'll need more help now that Dad's..."

Narcissa stopped in her tracks, the elf hitting the back of her knees and falling backward. "No...No. We'll do without. Besides, Dad will be home before you know it. We'll do until then...yes...he'll be home soon. We'll do without..." She repeated herself several times before she carried on toward the kitchen. "And you know, Draco. We'll have to do something about that extra room we'll need. But now I've got to get that bloody elf in the kitchen to start cooking. Got a few courses to cook before they arrive." It was as if she hadn't even heard half of what he'd said. She looked weary, and very thin. Her eyes reflected her sullen expression, almost evolving into a breed of madness.

"Get that girl down here, Draco. She can help the elves cook if we're keeping her here. It's the least she can do to repay us. Where did you say she was from again? Knockturn Alley was it?" Her face was sunken in, cheekbones and especially underneath her eyes. She looked quite dead. "That girl up there. Didn't you tell me that, Draco? She's from that shop in Knockturn Alley. Turning tricks, was she?"

Draco couldn't believe was he was hearing. Where did this fantastical background come from? It obviously wasn't something he'd told her... "Tamora Black, mum. From school?"

"Yes, I know, Draco. You told me. Tamora. She's welcome to come down and try the butterbeer. I stopped off at Hogsmeade, you know."

What was lurking in her thoughts that changed her completely? She had just spoken of... "All right. I'll tell her." He wouldn't disrupt the holiday by informing anyone that his mother was a complete lunatic. He would just make very sure to let Blake be the first to taste dinner... just in case...just to make sure it wasn't poisoned...

Draco seemed harsher and more distant as the afternoon wore on. The daylight hours were grinding themselves thin, slowly, painfully. Tamora was still locked in her room, lying on her bed. Draco, sitting in the parlor downstairs, brooded of the same subject: One. Simple. Kiss. His mind was flooded with the sensation that he couldn't forget. He couldn't think of another time that he'd felt so wonderful and so terrible at the same time. What was it about her? She was forceful, rude, impetuous... Breathtaking. He inhaled quickly. Mustn't forget to breathe...

She lay alone, curled up, clutching her pillow- rather, the guest room pillow, tightly. She promised her father that she'd never become one of them. One of the Dark Lord's minions. And here she was... snogging their long-awaited potential. He could very well lead the Death Eaters, and she'd be there, by his side. It was enough to make her sick... Her father had been so... courageous. _He'd _never stray from his promises... He would've kept the Potters' secret. What would he tell her if he could see what was happening? _Tamora, I know you think you love him, but it's only the second time you've ever had a crush on someone. You thought you loved that fool in Durmstrang, too. This is the wrong choice, Tam. Don't do it. Don't get too attached. _That's what he would say. And.. that's what she would have to do. Keep her distance. But... how?

Heart pangs were filling her with anguish... each like a jolt of lightening. Not that she hated it entirely. It was beautiful sorrow, because– after all, she could tell that he had felt the same. No, no! He hadn't. He had just wanted her to stew, to have emotions. He only wanted her physically, if he indeed wanted her at all... Even that was questionable. 'Remember,' she told herself. 'Remember that he's a Death Eater. He has no emotions.' But it seemed so real... 'An intangible_ dream_,' she thought. 'Nothing more.'

Draco had tried to confront her, but... it had done no good. He'd only attained more injuries, mostly to his shins. Never-the-less, this would be his fourth attempt. He walked up the stairs, favoring his left leg. Once at the top, each footstep made a light tap on the marble floors. Draco mouthed thanks to the air that they did not have creaky wooden floors in this marble tomb of a mansion. He continued down the hallway. Finally, her room. The guest room. He was about to knock when a voice echoed.

"What do you want, Draco? Did you forget that I can hear nearly everything? Saying that, you do toss and turn on that couch a lot."

He smiled internally. She had heard him moving on the parlor couch downstairs. "Come out here and talk."

"Magic word?"

"Now."

Draco heard her mutter "bastard", but let it slide when the doorknob turned.

"Yes?" she said impatiently.

"Why should you be sitting in here all alone? If neither of us can put it out of our minds–"

She interrupted, "–put _what_ out of our minds?"

He laughed, "Go on. Pretend you haven't been thinking about it up here all alone."

"You smug little–" she slammed the door in his face, sitting back down on the bed. Quickly, she picked up a piece of parchment and quill. She slammed them both down on the desk, the quill nearly snapping in half. Her hand shook as she scribbled, _Dear Harry, having a terrible time. Hope to come home soon. Merry Christm _Then she stopped. Why would she bother Harry with her troubles? She scratched darkly through everything but "Dear Harry", then wrote, _all's well here. The git's acting pretty well. His family's coming over tonight. Hope everyone's having a nice holiday. Love, Tamora_

That would certainly do. Another knock at the door. She was silent. He knocked again. Silence.

"Tamora, open the door."

She flicked her wand at the lock, and it clicked loudly.

"Tamora! OPEN THE BLOODY DOOR. I... want to talk to you." He was just short of saying 'I love you'. Ha. Love? What had made him almost say something as preposterous as _love_?Maybe it was his cousin. That's what his cousin had told him. Blake said, "You're bound to find someone that loves you if you wave a sack of galleons in the air. But hopefully, you'll meet another girl that will make you feel like you want to die. That's love, little cousin. Feels like it's not worth the trouble, but it is. It gets better. So hang on." But they were friends then. Not anymore. They refused to be related, even.

The lock clicked again. Open. She walked out, trying with difficulty not to meet his gaze.

"You can't ignore me, Tamora."

"Yes I can," she muttered.

"See? Can't." He bit the inside of his mouth to stop himself from smiling. "We're acting like children."

"One of us is."

"Stop this!" Draco held her by the shoulders to stop her from walking by. She wriggled free and kicked him in the shins. He held his shin painfully, "Ow!... that one did hurt..."

It seemed that he had an entire collection of bruises, and each begging for medical attention. Some were a close to bloody, and others merely black and blue. His shins were veterans of Tamora's rage, and once gain he groaned and rubbed his injured leg.

"Tamora, please!"

She stopped dead in her tracks. "Please? I bet you've heard that word a lot- considering how many witches and wizards you must've already killed." After this, she began walking quickly toward the winding stairs again. Draco sped after her.

"_What?_" He walked with her down the stairs, those stairs that seemed endless as they spiraled toward the ground.

Tamora scoffed. "You're a Death Eater. I bet you've killed lots of Muggles, too." She reached the bottom of the steps just before he did. Tamora placed a hand on Draco's chest, stopping him, then folded her arms. "How long have you been one of them?"

He paused, as to think of an answer to placate her. But... There was no answer. Then... "I've never killed anyone in my life. My father made me a Death Eater at the required age."

"What age was that?"

"Eleven." The sympathy shone in her eyes as he continued. "I had no idea what he wanted me to become. He never told me. Just told me that it was something all important people had to do. That mark was the worst pain of my life. You think you know? You can't even imagine just how disgusting Death Eaters are." He lifted his arm, showing the deep black tattoo, horrid in design. The skull with a snake slithering from its mouth... Grotesquely beautiful on the pale arm. She shuddered, a look of loathing for the tattoo followed. "And I'm just as disgusting now. Thanks to my father. Lot of good it did _him_ to be... 'important'. Blithering idiot. Didn't even know where he was between the... hangovers... _and_ Voldemort's experiments."

"Experiments?"

"Yeah," he seethed. To Tamora, it appeared that he was finally telling a long-kept secret. Remembering who his family and friends were, she found it easy to believe that he had kept to himself this long. Then, she watched his eyes move to his arm. He pulled down his sleeve over the tattoo, once again hiding his atrocity from the entire wizarding world. Draco grinned with an expression of dark humor. It was the unhealthy pale color of his face, or possibly the uncommon severity of his cold grey eyes... Whichever it was, he had made Tamora uneasy. She could barely stand staring him in the face. It felt—_dangerous_— when he acted this way. Not that she was repulsed by danger- she enjoyed it. This was an entirely different danger. The danger felt in the presence of... well, a Death Eater. It was a feeling she had never before known Draco to evoke... A base terror that tore apart her soul. He had slipped into another realm of sanity, or lack thereof... and it frightened her beyond belief.

"My father. All the Death Eaters, actually- were lead on by Voldemort. Droughts were handed out, potions he promised would make them more powerful. What a load of cack he was feeding them. It was a monitor, a tracing spell. That's why he can find all of the Death Eaters now. That's what made the Dark Mark feel like... Well how do you describe it?... It's like your skin is being ripped off with a white-hot... _dull_ knife. Sometimes it's not quite as bad as all that. Sometimes..." He held his arm, as though even the memory caused him undue torment. "Sometimes worse. But still... something you'd only wish on your real enemies."

Tamora was at a loss for words. "I'm sorry," she whispered. She saw his features had softened, and her fear passed. "But it still doesn't give you any right to bother me about the k... what happened this morning."

"But you started it!" He said incredulously. There was laughter in his voice that made her even more infuriated.

"It was a mistake," said Tamora. The wistful air about her made him gloomy for the rest of the evening. Time wore on again, a bit faster than it had seemed to creep before. An hour or two passed, and she remained on the couch... sitting by the fireplace. The fireplace was bereft of flames, and the large manor was growing steadily colder. "_Lacarnum inflamare." _she murmured. Flames poured from her rosewood wand and devoured the logs in the fireplace.

Draco lay across a large plush armchair, his legs hanging over one of the arms. He stretched lazily and closed his eyes again. She wouldn't talk to him, and he wouldn't run after her like some lovesick imbeciles he'd seen in the past. They chased after girls out of their league and failed horribly.

"What were you doing talking to Zabini on Halloween night?"

Tamora laughed, mocking him. "You keeping track of me now? He wished me a Happy Birthday. It was midnight. November, actually."

"Oh..." He had never realized that Tamora's birthday had even passed. "November first?"

"Yes." She added, "Apparently he's had a crush on me since I arrived. He asked for a birthday date that night."

Draco's face popped up mysteriously from over the top of his knees, as he leaned on his elbows. "He did _what?"_

"Is it so hard to believe that Blaise Zabini would ask me out on a date?"

"No, just hard to believe that you'd accept," he laughed.

"It just so happens that I am good friends with him," she said matter-of-factly. "But what gave you the idea that I accepted?" He shrugged. Tamora rolled her eyes. "Well, if you must know, you were right. (Draco smiled to hear the last three words, feeling that he had somehow won a very small battle.) But it was a friends' dinner. I told him that in the beginning. He seemed to take it well."

"Do you realize that Blaise killed his younger brother in December?"

Tamora gasped, blanching at the thought. "...You're kidding..."

"No. Parents never noticed, either. Davon was a weak child. They didn't really care for him anyway. I thought he was all right... First year Slytherin, his brother."

"God..." she was shivering, thinking that she had dated a future murderer. "So," she said, eager to change the subject. "When are your relatives arriving?" Tamora didn't really think of them as traditional relatives, more like various convicts that happened to be related.

"A quarter to seven...at least I think that's what mum said. Dinner always starts at seven on Christmas Eve."

"Well..what do you people.._do..._ on Christmas Eve?" She looked at him with slight apprehension.

"It's not as bad as all that, Tamora. What do you think we do- sacrifice a goat?"

"Now that you mention it..."

"Oh shut up no we don't."

Tamora rolled her eyes. "Sorry to offend you..." There was a long pause, and Malfoy waited. "...what animal _do _you sacrifice then?"

"_Black cats_," he sneered, staring her in the face. Draco continued to rest on the chair, distinctly hearing the word 'git' mumbled through the noise of the fire crackling.

"Stupid little ferret, I'll get you if your family's not polite to me."

"You're a pureblood, aren't you?"

"Yes," Tamora said ruefully. "Would I be here if I wasn't? Honestly... 'course I am..."

He shook his head and laughed quietly. "Then there's no problem. You just might not want to mention your name much."

"_Is Tamora an unlawful name?_" she said sarcastically. "I'm not a friend among your Death Eaters, then."

"_Family,_" he corrected.

"Same thing."

"Oh, then I can call your family Muggle-loving fools, can I?"

"Shut up..." Tamora was growing weary of the constant badgering on both sides. "This is pointless. Let's just get along for a while before we kill eachother."

"Or snog eachother," Draco muttered. "Don't think I can tolerate anymore of that disgusting pastime."

"You were pretty enthusiastic, too, Mr. _Disgusting Passtime._ So don't make it seem that way."

Malfoy smirked, catching the word _too_ in the sentence."Are you suggesting that you were enjoying it?"

Tamora kept herself turned to the fire, her arms folded. "My morals don't allow me to answer that question."

"Morals," he jibed, "as if snogging is against your code of ethics."

"No, snogging a Death Eater is." Tamora frowned. He let out an irritated groan. It seemed that being a Death Eater was going to disrupt all his Christmas plans...pity...

_A/N: Hope you guys aren't too disappointed with this chapter. I'm continuing with Malfoy's Christmas Eve 'celebration' when I can... Do you actually still like this after reading HBP? Hope so...review! Why? Well... review because you're awesome._


End file.
